Playing With Fire
by Zoya Zalan
Summary: Bella has an itch. Carlisle has a few stiff drinks. A gritty tale of lust, betrayal, and the search for redemption begins. AH/AU; some disturbing themes.
1. It Begins

**Disclaimer****: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things **_**Twilight**_**-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Author's Notes: Since my Muse has been on vacation far too long, I decided to try waking her back up with a little impromptu fun. This story is my response to the PPSS Blog's 'Wedding' Pervy Picspirations challenge, even if I'm too late to enter. :(**

**Warning: AH/AU. Not for Edward/Bella fans. Or Carlisle/Esme fans. Or fans of Respectable!Carlisle, either, for that matter. Seriously.**

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I was sitting at the deserted bar, slowly nursing a scotch, when she appeared around the intricate latticework of wood and glass that separated this particular lounge from the rest of the fancy resort. I paused, glass half-way to my lips. She grinned shyly. God almighty.

Lifting her voluminous skirt a bit, Bella glided towards me, and it was all I could do not to groan out loud at all the unbelievably filthy thoughts crossing my mind. Alcohol is a wonderful thing, you know. Sometimes. It can numb pain well enough, but its ability to loosen tightly guarded inhibitions was going to get me into some serious trouble if my new daughter-in-law kept poking and prodding where she didn't belong.

"Dr. Cullen?"

I forced a smile. Actually, it probably looked more like a grimace considering how hard my cock was at that particular moment. Maybe if I pretended I was drunk she might leave me alone. Better yet, maybe she'd take advantage of me. Fuck, I'd sell off half the priceless family heirlooms in my possession to get my hands on that luscious little body before my numbskull step-son Edward permanently marked his territory.

"Dr. Cullen, how come you're hiding way over here? You do know the reception has an open bar?"

"Of course I do, sweetheart," I replied smoothly. "I'm paying for it."

Bella gaped for a few seconds before dropping her gaze and blushing furiously. "Of course you knew that."

I couldn't resist. The urge to mess with her as much as she'd messed with me was just too damned strong. Reaching out, I gently tipped her face back up, offering her a smoldering look. "Why, might I ask, has the beautiful bride escaped her own wedding celebration?"

A soft smile brightened her features, tightening my groin even further. "I was hoping to dance with my father-in-law."

_Jesus Christ already_… Tipping my glass back, I drained the rest of the scotch, relishing in the slow, warm burn the liquid left in its wake, and signaled the barkeep. I needed about twelve more to steady my nerves to the point where I wouldn't just push her against the wall and fuck her senseless. She'd been playing coy with me for months, but I wasn't fooled. She knew exactly what she was doing. And almost none of it had been behind Edward's back either; he's just a fucking idiot for not recognizing the signs. The bartender – Frank, his name tag read – poured me another round. His eyebrow quirked as he shot me a furtive glance. Even Frank knew what the hell was going on.

Bella bit her bottom lip, doing her best to look uncertain. "Please, Carlisle? I would really, _really_ love to dance with you."

Laughter bubbled forth, shaking my whole body. The irony of it all was fucking rich. I downed the second glass full in one gulp and turned back to her. She stared at me, her expression carrying just a hint of her true intentions for the first time. Fuck it. Fuck my gold-digging wife and her idiot wuss of a son, too. If the little girl wants to play, who the hell am I to say no? "Hey Frank?" In my peripheral vision I could see him slow the rag he was using to wipe the bar. "You got a store room anywhere around here?"

I leered. Bella smirked. Frank stopped wiping altogether, pausing only a moment before reaching below the counter. A small set of keys dropped into my open palm seconds later. "Around the back," he pointed. "Key's color-coded blue. Try not to wreck anything."

"Shall we dance?" I whispered to her, holding my hand out. Her tiny one slid easily into mine, the contact sending a jolt of pure lust sizzling down my spine.

I scanned the lounge and the entrance, making sure nobody was watching before hurrying her through the back of the bar area. Less than a minute later, we stumbled into the stockroom, lips sliding together in a sloppy kiss. I flipped the light switch blindly, pushing the door shut with my left foot. She felt so fucking good in my arms, all soft and tiny and sweet smelling. I've got a thing for petite women; I think most men with big cocks do. Just the thought of being buried to the hilt inside that tight wetness made me groan.

"Eager, are we?" she asked, breaking our kiss. We were both breathless.

I grinned at her. "You have no idea."

Grabbing my lapels, she yanked me back down to her level. "I'm presuming you know something about human anatomy, being a doctor and all?"

"A thing or two," I replied, nipping at her lips.

One of her hands rubbed my crotch, squeezing lightly. "Well, I've got this unbearable itch…"

Laughing, I pulled her up into my arms and walked her to the far side of the narrow room, setting her on the small table I found there. "Show me where, sweetheart."

Planting each of her feet against the metal racks on either side of us, she slowly pulled up her skirt. I exhaled loudly as inch after inch of delicate hosiery, garter straps, and creamy skin was revealed to me, my fingertips eagerly following the receding material. When she finally cleared her waistline, I blinked in surprise, my gaze sliding up to meet hers. She grinned back, licking those sexy lips of hers.

"Isabella Swan-Masen," I scolded, tsking. She'd walked down the aisle of a Catholic church looking like such a good girl with her pure white dress and veil, but underneath… "Where did your panties go, young lady?"

She pouted. "I guess I forgot them."

Edward didn't fucking deserve this beautiful little minx. She was way out of his league. The unfairness of it all rankled, but I knew there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it now; I'd forever held my peace, for better or worse.

I trailed ticklish fingers across her completely bare mons pubis before lightly stroking downward. God, she was so wet. All for me. She closed her eyes at my touch, trembling. "Have I found the right spot, Isabella? Is this what's been bothering you?"

"Fuck, yeah!" she whispered.

I sank to my knees, conscious of the fact that the bride would be missed before too long, and buried my face in her folds. She squeaked at my sudden move, but quickly found my rhythm, undulating against my mouth in tiny little circles while the sound of her panting colored the air. I laved her relentlessly, swallowing as much of her delicious juices as I could. Despite its brevity, I needed to savor this moment; with them living in New York, the chances of this kind of rendezvous happening again any time soon were slim to none.

Within minutes, she'd graduated to tiny whimpers, her hips gradually faltering until, with a sharp cry, she finally came, shuddering in my arms. Once she'd settled, still gasping for breath, I wasted no time in getting back up and undoing my slacks, remembering at the last moment to grab the condom I had stashed in my wallet. When I glanced back at her, the stunned expression she wore made me grin. It was the same look I'd seen on all my lovers' faces the first time they'd noticed the size of my junk.

"Holy shit."

I chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment."

She reached for the condom, helping me slide it over my generous length. "Please tell me you have at least one son out there somewhere, keeping your gene pool alive."

"Two, actually," I said.

"Thank all the little gods."

Bella swallowed my laughter, pulling me down for another feverish kiss. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I scooted her closer to the edge of the table before aligning myself at her entrance and pressing forward slowly. I released her lips when I felt her stiffen beneath me. For a single panicked moment, I wondered whether I'd just deflowered a virgin. Then I remembered how she'd sheathed my cock with an expert's touch only seconds before. She was no virgin; I was just fucking big.

"Relax for me, sweetheart," I whispered, gazing into her eyes. She looked genuinely surprised, a bit afraid, even, but I didn't stop. "That's it, baby, take me in. You feel so fucking good."

"Carlisle…"

"You're okay," I reassured softly. Bloody hell, she was tight!

I held still once I was fully seated inside her warmth, giving her body a chance to adjust. Bella's eyes slid closed while she panted raggedly. Dragging my lips and teeth along her neck, I moaned as I withdrew just a tiny bit, and then pushed forward again. It was going to take all the control I had not to shoot my load before either of us had a chance to enjoy this. A few moments later, I felt her grasp my shoulders, pulling me closer.

"Please," she breathed.

"You want this, baby?" I teased, flexing my cock.

She moaned, squirming against me. "Fuck me, please!"

I grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

We rocked together, slowly at first, but with increasing fervor, our tongues dueling for supremacy. I really wanted to mark her, to suck some of that beautiful skin between my teeth and nibble away until the rest of the world knew someone had screwed her until she couldn't see straight on her wedding day. They'd all assume it was Edward, of course, but I'd be able to sit back and smile, enjoying the confusion on his face. There's nothing like a good case of adultery to start a marriage off right. Just ask my wife; she's a fucking expert in that department.

The table creaked beneath us as we tested its staying power. I truly was trying to be gentle with her, but for the love of all that's holy, those little sounds she was making – it was enough to drive me wild with need. I rammed into her again and again, my hips picking up speed as my climax approached. Reaching between us, I pressed my thumb against her clit, wiggling its tiny hood back and forth. Bella jolted instantly, burying her face against my shoulder while she spasmed around me, her cries of pleasure muffled by my clothing. Two thrusts later, and I joined her, groaning and shuddering and feeling more fucking exhilarated than I had in years.

I collapsed against her, mindful of my much larger bulk, but Bella didn't seem to mind. She clung to me, still shaking, as both of us gasped for air.

"That was un-fucking-believable," she sighed.

I laughed, pressing a loud kiss to her ear. "Glad you enjoyed the ride."

"Seriously, you don't just look like sex on legs – you _are_ sex on legs."

Well, that boosted my already inflated ego somewhat. It was nice to know the lightly graying sideburns still held as much allure as my generous proportions. I hummed my approval, bucking against her. I was still mostly erect, so the movement earned me another squeak from the beautiful woman in my arms. She arched against me, stretching like a cat in the sun, and I wasted no time in capturing her lips for another passionate kiss.

When I felt myself softening in earnest, I reluctantly grabbed the base of the condom and pulled out, yanking it off and tossing it in the garbage can. Before I could even blink, Bella's tongue was lapping at the drop of semen left behind on the head of my cock. I groaned, cupping her face in my hands.

"_You're_ un-fucking-believable – do you know that?" I asked, repeating her colorful descriptor.

She smiled at me, looking every bit the coquettish minx she was. "We need to do this again. Very soon."

I frowned, feeling remarkably saddened by her statement. "If only that were possible." Hell, I'd fuck her every day of the week if given the chance.

Bella's eyes lit up. "Oh, but it will be." When I cocked my head in disbelief, she continued, "We're moving back to Seattle next month."

I swear my heart stopped. "You're shitting me?"

She grinned, reaching to straighten my bow tie and smooth down my vest and dress shirt. "Nope. Apparently Edward misses his Mommy."

I rested both palms on the table beside her and leaned down until we were nose to nose. "I guess that means more quality time for you and Daddy."

"Why do you think I married the little prick? Oh, and I mean that literally as well as figuratively, by the way," Bella whispered against my lips.

_Jesus Fucking Christ!_ She married him so she could be closer to me? That's about as fucked up as it gets in the sticky little world of family affairs. I should really be running away as fast as I can, knowing how ugly this kind of thing can get, but instead I was just feeling…smug. Standing back up, I pulled out my handkerchief and handed it to her, my gaze smoldering.

"You want this back when I'm through?" she asked playfully, making a show of cleaning herself. God, what a tease.

"Just toss it."

"What if Esme notices it's missing?"

I chuckled, my tone dripping with derision. "She won't. Trust me."

Bella dropped my handkerchief into the garbage and hopped down from the table, shifting her skirt around to try and work out the wrinkles we'd made. "Poor Carlisle. You need a real woman in your life."

"Indeed," I offered, smirking.

She left without saying another word. I gave her a five-minute head start while I righted my own clothing, feeling the excitement of forbidden pleasures building steadily in my gut. I was playing with fire, I knew, but the lure of a fresh, beautiful face and a tight little body to match were just too strong. This would be good, really good, however long it lasted. And then people would get burned, like they always do.

C'est la vie.

(~ * ~* ~)


	2. 14 Days

**Disclaimer****: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things **_**Twilight**_**-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Author's Notes: Well, apparently my Muse, upon being wakened, has shocked the hell out of me and decided this little one-shot needs to be more than a one-shot. Jiminy Cricket, I swore I would never post an unfinished story again, but if you are willing to be patient with me, I'll work on this one and FAE simultaneously. They are two very different styles, so perhaps the inherent differences will keep my Muse balanced and happy. *crosses fingers***

**Warning: AH/AU. This Carlisle is a cocky bastard, and I mean that truthfully. Portions of this particular chapter walk a fine line between rough sex and non-con (C/Es). I'm trying to provide an explanation for Carlisle's attitude in the first chapter.**

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The first thing I heard when I stepped into the house was laughter – loud, uninhibited laughter – coming from upstairs. The kind I never hear when it's just me and Esme. I stopped, listening, a grim smile spreading across my face. How typical. She must do this every time I have a double shift. Or any shift, for that matter.

Pocketing my car keys, I set my medical bag down in the foyer and crossed the living room to the bar, pouring myself a cognac. The first swill of the deep amber liquid hit me like a sledge hammer, making my sinuses quiver, but the second and third went down more smoothly. I could have used a good stiff chaser right about then, but I couldn't think of anything strong enough to get me through this particular situation. Except maybe Drano.

I poured myself another glass as the distant sounds heated up. I heard Esme squeal, then groan. They hadn't even bothered to close the fucking door, for Christ's sake. My stomach clenched with anger as I listened to their mounting pleasure. I didn't really give a shit that someone else was screwing my wife; we hadn't exactly been living in marital bliss for, oh…_ever_. No, what pissed me off was the audacity she had in bringing him here, to our bed. Some lines shouldn't be crossed, and in my opinion that was one of them. There were plenty of hotels in Seattle, and, if all else failed, the fucking art gallery she ran had plenty of nooks and crannies for this kind of illicit behavior.

_"Oh…oh, yes…oh…oh…"_ Esme's sexual build-up was about as predictable as the rest of her.

I smiled at the sheer nastiness that crossed my mind just then. I could fix this easily, and with minimal discomfort – on my part, at least. Still listening intently, I walked back over to the garage entry, quietly opening the door.

_"Yes! Oh…oh…oh!"_

Any second now, given her tone and breathlessness…

_"Oh…oh…oh, oh, oh, OH, OH, __**OH**__, __**OH**__…"_

Gritting my teeth, I slammed the door closed, effectively ending any chance either of them had to find completion. It was quietly muffled, but I heard them scrambling, and within fifteen seconds the shower turned on. The asshole, whoever he was, had a clear path to safety – there was a second set of stairs at the other end of the hallway that bottomed out right by the back entrance. I sauntered into the kitchen, eager for the show. Sure enough, within moments I had an incredible two-moon view: one hanging in the sky, and the other running across my back yard, probably dropping pieces of clothing in his haste. I took another gulp of my drink. The fucker.

I reached instinctively for my phone, needing to distance myself from the anger roiling in my gut. Tapping the screen to life, I selected the appropriate contact – suitably disguised by name – and texted, "**i miss your pussy**." I closed my eyes. God, I was such a fucking bastard. Bella didn't deserve the cheapness of my words. Silently chastising myself, I touched the screen again and texted, "**i really miss you too**." Less than a minute later my phone vibrated with her response.

"**14 days**."

Fourteen days, and she'd be back within my grasp. Fourteen days, and this whirlwind affair would turn into something bigger, better, and far more dangerous. And I couldn't fucking wait.

The pitter-patter of tiny, adulterous feet approaching forced me into action. I turned and opened the refrigerator, studying the relative emptiness I found there with detached interest. It was Wednesday – Jacinta's day off. Esme sure as hell wasn't going to cook anything; heaven forbid she'd break a nail.

"Hey. I didn't hear you come in."

I glanced at the doorway. Esme was a world-class liar – her eyes twinkled with perfect innocence. Then my gaze slid downward to the short, short silk robe she wore. So, that was the plan. She didn't get off before, so she was going to seduce me into finishing the job. I decided to ignore the ploy.

"There's nothing to eat," I observed, moving to retrieve my drink from the counter.

She looked thoughtful. "We could go out."

I downed the last of the cognac. "I just pulled a double shift. I'm tired."

Esme leaned against the center island, letting the hem of her robe slide temptingly upward. "We could…stay in." Her voice dripped with honeyed deceit.

I laughed softly. "What the fuck is your agenda, Esme? Just spit it out."

"Why the hell do I need a reason to want you?" she growled.

My cock twitched. It actually fucking twitched while I watched the fire ignite in her eyes. Tossing the empty glass into the sink, I stalked towards her, relishing only slightly in the spark of fear I saw cross her face. "You wanna fuck, Esme? I'll fuck you." That's about all we'd ever done since day one anyway. Love had never been a factor in this marriage, only convenience.

Grabbing her hand, I led her out of the room and up the steps. She didn't try to pull away, but I could tell she was fuming. Our room was surprisingly tidy considering what had been going on earlier. The bed had been straightened and turned down on one side, looking, for all intents and purposes, like Esme was getting ready to retire for some reading, just as she did every night. It didn't even smell like sex, though I did catch a hint of citrus spray underlying the clean scents that were wafting from the master bath.

I yanked my tie off with one hand and undid her robe with the other. Both fell to the floor unceremoniously. She just stood there, naked, glaring at me while I unbuttoned my shirt. I scanned her small frame with appreciation. She was beautiful; that much I couldn't deny. That just made this easier, since my cock seemed pretty oblivious to all the hostility in the air.

Slowly, the anger dissipated from Esme's features, replaced with the seductive pretense I was all too familiar with. From this point onward, she would very calmly attempt to regain control of the situation. That's what Esme liked: being in control. But tonight, I wasn't in the mood for games. I'd been fucked over enough.

Esme backed up and lowered herself onto the bed, spreading her legs wide and fingering herself. I toed off my shoes and dropped my slacks and boxer briefs, stepping out of the puddle of material I'd created before pulling my socks off. When I slid the drawer of her night stand open and began rifling through its contents, Esme sat up.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Holding up one of the condoms I found, I grinned mirthlessly. "Looking for adequate protection."

"I'm your wife, for God's sake!"

I quickly ripped open the packet and rolled the sheath on. "Yes, you are, sweetheart," I hissed, flipping her over. She fought me, but only half-heartedly. I could tell she was turned on. Pulling her ass off the bed, I covered her with my body, pressing her shoulders into the mattress. "But, since I have no fucking clue who's been parked in your garage," I continued, whispering into her ear, "I'd rather be safe than sorry." With that, I plunged into her warmth.

Esme jolted, one of her hands reaching around to grab at my hair. I knocked it away and continued thrusting.

"You bastard," she spat. "Thanks for the foreplay."

I laughed. "I think we both know you've had enough of that for one day. Who was it, Esme? Who the hell was that running across the yard before?"

"None of your goddamned business!"

She arched her back then, shoving her hips against me with each thrust. I had to admire her tenacity. Even in the midst of this impossible situation, where so much anger and frustration boiled between us, she was still perfectly happy to fend for herself. And if I hadn't realized exactly what she was doing, she would have tried bucking her way to a perfectly satisfying G-spot orgasm. Of course, that would have entirely defeated the purpose of this little romp – at least from my perspective, so I put a stop to it, pressing her even further into the mattress and changing my angle of penetration. She then tried to worm one of her hands underneath to stimulate herself manually – another attempt I thwarted easily.

Closing my eyes, I focused my attention on the exquisite sensations coiling in my groin. Despite my wanting Esme to suffer for what had happened tonight, I didn't feel like drawing it out excessively. I'd made my point; now it was time to move on. A few more thrusts, and I came, grunting through my pleasure. When I was done, I wasted no time in getting off her and tending to the condom.

I realized almost too late how quiet Esme was being. Luckily, I glanced at her just in time to see the hardcover flying at my head. I ducked, tsking. "Temper, temper, now," I scolded.

"You son of a bitch!"

I grabbed my robe and slid into it, dodging the wooden sculpture she'd picked up in Kenya two years ago. It was a struggle to get my clothes put away, but I refused to be swayed by her tantrum, calmly side-stepping every object she threw at me and letting all the nasty expletives roll off my shoulders. After I'd collected my keys, wallet, and phone, I started to leave the room, moving to close the door behind me. That's when I saw her tear-streaked face. She was staring at me with all kinds of hatred while she fisted the sheets. Part of me cheered, knowing I'd accomplished exactly what I'd set out to do. Another part of me curled into a ball and wept. Because, really, when all was said and done, I was no better than she was – just far more discreet.

The house was quiet when I descended the stairs. I went to the kitchen first, throwing together a peanut butter sandwich, before turning off all the lights and setting the alarm. I retreated finally to my study, which I kept locked for various reasons. I was grateful for that tonight, as I wouldn't have put it past Esme to nail me with a vase or worse while I slept. Settling at my desk, I stared out the window, munching on my dinner while I watched the moon sink towards the horizon.

Fourteen days. What would happen then? Besides a lot of indiscriminate fucking, that is. I thought about it for the longest time, and there wasn't a single scenario I came up with that didn't end very, very badly. Was it really worth it to have that delicious young thing wrapped around my cock? Repeatedly?

Somewhere deep in the recesses of my brain, past all the chemicals and synapses that controlled prudent judgment, I could hear a little voice whispering to me.

_Fuck, yeah._

(~ * ~ * ~)


	3. Piano Man

**Disclaimer****: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things **_**Twilight**_**-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Author's Notes: This is the last of the set-up chapters. From here on in it's all Seattle. Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed and put this story on alert – I'm tickled pink at how many of you are enjoying this. You inspire me!**

**Warning: AH/AU.**

**Many thanks to my incredible beta, Carol, for riding shotgun with me through 13 years, five fandoms, and a boat-load of errors and inconsistencies. I am a much better writer because of her patience and keen insight. She's worth her weight in gold.**

(~ * ~ * ~)

My iPod screamed Muse as I dragged the last of the boxes from the kitchen, threatening to rupture my eardrums any second. The pain felt good, an incessant throb that rattled every cell in my body. I would have preferred to have it blasting on the stereo, but Edward couldn't relate to this music. He'd said it made him nervous. Shit, everything made him nervous – didn't he notice the three packs of Classics he smoked every day? He was out on the balcony right now, playing chimney, his head hanging while a war raged in his psyche. Seriously, one almost needed a psychology degree to understand these moody artistic types. I'd stopped trying quite some time ago, realizing the effort was futile.

One by one, I plopped the boxes onto our carefully organized pile in the living room, everything labeled and separated per Mr. Anal's orders. For me, boxing everything up would be enough. Then, on the other end, unpacking would be like Christmas, every new box filled with surprises. Apparently, that's not how things are done, though. Takes all the fun out of it, if you ask me.

The sudden vibration in my pocket sent a spark of excitement through me. I grabbed my phone and checked the message.

_**i miss your pussy**_

I nearly cackled out loud. It was just so Carlisle. A few seconds later another text came in.

_**i really miss you too**_

Tapping the screen, I replied, _**14 days**_. Hell, yes, I'd been keeping count – in my head, of course. I had never, ever been so thoroughly and satisfyingly fucked before in my life as I'd been that day in the dusty old store room, and I couldn't wait to feel that incredible cock of his inside me again. It couldn't fucking happen soon enough.

Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention, and I glanced up to see Edward sliding the balcony door closed. He looked puzzled. That's when I realized I was smiling like a mad fool. I pulled the buds out of my ears.

"What's that all about," Edward asked, gesturing towards my Blackberry.

"You mean you can't hear Alice's squees all the way over here?" I covered perfectly.

Edward rolled his eyes. He'd only met Alice a few times, but honestly, my best friend in the whole world was about as unforgettable as they come. And she was damned excited that I was moving back to Seattle – something he was well aware of.

"I hope whatever she has isn't contagious."

I snorted. "She just has a lot of energy," I explained as I put my phone away and followed him to the couch. "Only sleeps four hours a night."

He looked at me. "That's fucked."

"That's Alice." I shrugged.

Edward's gaze refocused on the old upright standing at the other end of the room. Everything that had sat atop or around it had been removed and packed up, leaving it looking sad and lonely. I felt for it, I really did, but Edward's attitude about the whole thing was confusing at best.

"When are they coming?" he asked. I knew what he meant.

"Tomorrow afternoon."

I almost missed his whispered, "Fuck."

"It's going to a good home, Edward. Their little girl is starting piano lessons…"

The look in his eyes was wild. "Yeah, and after six months she'll get bored and decide to jump to the next exciting thing, and it'll sit, untouched, in her parents' den for the next forty or fifty years!"

I was totally at a loss. There was just no flipping way I could fathom his anger. "They're giving us a fair price for it, and that, along with the money we got for wedding gifts, will be more than enough to buy a newer, better piano for you in Seattle."

He stood, arms crossed protectively over his chest, and walked to the instrument. "I don't want a newer, better piano. I've been through a lot with this one."

Rubbing my eyes, I counted to ten. We'd already covered this a dozen times before, and I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep my cool. "Edward." He didn't respond. "Edward," I tried again, louder this time, "you know how much the movers wanted to transport this thing. Securing a delicate instrument for a cross-country trip costs three times the normal amount if we want it to arrive on the other end in one piece, and that doesn't even take into account the rest of our stuff. They also charge by how much space we take up in the trailer."

"I don't care."

Jesus Christ, it was like arguing with a two year-old. "You've been playing on different pianos your whole life," I tried to reason with him. "When you're famous and giving concerts all over the place, you aren't going to be able to drag this one with you."

Edward spun around, pinning me with a nasty glare. "Are you mocking me?"

I lifted my arms, defeated. "It's just a fucking piano!"

"You have no fucking clue what you're talking about, Bella! It's beyond your comprehension level!"

Wow. Insulting someone's intelligence graduates him to…what, maybe fourth grade? "Fine," I shot back, my voice dripping with venom. "We'll go ahead and spend all the money we have to make sure your baby comes with us to Seattle. We won't have anything left to live on once we get there, but I guess that's where the term 'starving artist' comes from. Oh, and you can be the one to call Mr. and Mrs. Bishop, and explain to them why they have to find another piano for their daughter. Their number's on the kitchen counter," I finished, stalking out of the room.

The bedroom door slammed behind me. Its echo was excessively loud with most of the decorations and furnishings gone, and I relished in the sound. So this is what marriage is all about. No wonder my mom tried to talk me out of it. _You're too young, Bella_, she'd said. _Don't ruin your life just yet; live a little first_.

Throwing myself on the bed, I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. I actually thought I _had_ lived enough, but given who'd offered up the advice in the first place, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Renée is a master partier – I was definitely educated by the best in that department, much to my father's chagrin. At forty, she was still going strong with no signs of slowing down; her little exhibition at our wedding reception was proof of that. Thank God most everyone there had had a good sense of humor.

I lifted my left hand, holding it away from me, palm-outward. My gold wedding band shimmered in the lamplight. Edward hadn't been able to afford an engagement ring. Truthfully, I really didn't care. Material things weighed a person down and made it harder to just pick up and leave for the next destination along life's highway. I preferred simplicity. That's pretty much what had drawn me to Edward in the first place, actually. He'd seemed so uncomplicated at the time – quiet Juilliard musician, looking very much like a lost little puppy out in the big, bad world. I suppose if I'd made more of a genuine effort to get to know him better, I might have spotted all the potential problems before getting in too deep…before deciding the bumpy ride had to be worth it.

Before Carlisle.

That night would forever be ingrained in my mind. Even thinking about it now made me shiver. Edward's senior honors recital had happened to fall two days before Carlisle had been set to receive a prestigious award from the American Medical Association here in New York. I guess Fate had worked overtime to align the stars for that one. At the reception afterward, I'd caught a glimpse of _the_ most stunning specimen of male human hotness. He'd been across the crowded room, perched casually against the makeshift bar, looking sexy as hell with his wavy blond hair slicked back. I remember something else had caught my attention briefly, but when I'd looked back in his direction, I'd been stunned to find him thoroughly admiring every inch of my legs, bottom to top, sliding upward until our gazes had locked. He'd stared at me unflinchingly, with a level of assertiveness that practically screamed, '_I wanna fuck you_.'

Of course I'd blushed and looked away, trying to locate Edward amongst the throng of musicians, professors, and well-wishers. I, the girl who partied hearty and had dropped out of NYU to pursue a "career" in bartending, had been just a bit out of her element amid the stuffy intellectual types. Having a handsome stranger eye-fucking me had been hot. Having Edward seeing a handsome stranger eye-fucking me would not have been hot, so I'd kept my cool and had tried to stay out of the way while my boyfriend had enjoyed his night in the spotlight.

That reception had lasted nearly two hours. I'd caught Carlisle watching me intently nearly that entire time, his steamy gaze and cocky smile practically guaranteeing that we were destined to meet. And meet we did, when Edward had finally introduced me to his mother, Esme, who'd then proceeded to search for and wave over the object of my intense desire. Carlisle had smiled politely and kissed my hand, his voice nearly causing me to come on the spot. Best fucking day of my entire life, especially after having witnessed the blatant antipathy hovering between him and Esme. I knew right then and there that I had to have him, even if it was just once.

Later that night, I'd taken Edward home and fucked the ever-loving shit out of him in an effort to relieve my horniness, and the very next day, much to my sick and twisted delight, he'd proposed. After that, it was only a matter of time.

A soft knock on the bedroom door drew me out of my recollection. "Bella?"

I sighed. "Yeah."

The hinges squeaked a little as Edward stepped inside. "I'm sorry I yelled. I'm just…having a hard time with all this. I don't like change."

"You're going home, Edward; this should be a happy moment for you. I thought it was what you wanted?"

He came and sat down beside me. "It is. Getting from point A to point B is a challenge, though. Always has been for me."

Jesus, I'm glad I wasn't around when he moved out here to go to school. I'm surprised the drama of it all didn't fucking kill him. "It'll be fine," I reassured, taking his hand in mine. "We'll both be closer to family and friends."

Nodding, he lay down and curled against me, wrapping his arm around my waist. It almost felt like I was comforting a child as I ran my hand through his hair. The thought disturbed me, but I deflected it quickly. I didn't want to think about the mess I was in (denial is a wonderful defense mechanism – I highly recommend it). I was far more interested in counting the different positions I wanted to try with Carlisle.

I grinned at my own impertinence. Recklessness had never sounded so fucking good.

(~ * ~ * ~)

**Fic Rec!**

**I've been wanting to rec this particular story for a while now, and this is the perfect time since the story in question contains another oh-so-hot Bastard!Carlisle. Go have a look at Wrong13's **_**Dirty Carlisle**_**. It sizzles from the very first paragraph, and her Carlisle/Bella have a mind game match going on that's reached epic proportions. The depth of this story is amazing, and the characters are unforgettable. And did I mention the sex is about as hot as it gets? Run, don't walk.**


	4. Danger, Little Stranger

**Disclaimer****: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things **_**Twilight**_**-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warning: AH/AU.**

**Many thanks once again to my beta, Carol, for all her help. Any mistakes in the final draft are entirely my own.**

(~ * ~ * ~)

It was nearly 4pm by the time the semi pulled up in front of our new apartment complex. We'd waited all day for them to show, but these things never go as planned. Rush hour in the University District was ugly, and having the big truck blocking traffic proved incredibly amusing to me, mostly because it seemed to freak Esme out so much. She was running around in her fancy heels, ordering the greasy-haired movers about like nobody's business, all the while glancing fearfully at the traffic jam being created on University Way. I felt like offering her the Xanax my mother had so thoughtfully given me to help with my non-existent pre-wedding jitters, but knowing Esme, she'd probably take it all wrong and suggest I enter drug abuse counseling or some similar bullshit. Extreme reactions seemed to run rampant in the Masen family, unfortunately.

So, there we were, unloading what had become our life while the rest of Seattle watched. I thought it was kind of cool, actually, like announcing, 'hey dudes, we're back!' Alice and I had grown up ninety-some miles away in Forks, but as soon as driver's licenses had been procured, we'd practically lived in Seattle. Really, it was the only place to be. Edward had grown up in the exclusive Madison Park suburb, which explained why we'd never crossed paths until New York City. Affluence and small-town flannels rarely commingle in home territory. But by God, if I'd known Dr. Cock lived here, I'd never have left in the first place.

"Oh, honey, don't do that," Esme said when she saw Edward walking out of the trailer carrying a small box. "You'll hurt your hands."

One fucking box that probably weighed a grand total of twenty pounds? You've got to be kidding me! I just stared at her, blinking in confusion. Fortunately, she was focused entirely on Edward and didn't catch my 'what the fuck' look. No wonder her son was such a basket case, if she'd treated him like this his whole life.

"Mom, I'm fine."

Esme shook her head. "Absolutely not. Go inside and tell them where you want things placed." She took the box from him, spun around, and pushed it into my hands, right on top of the box I was already carrying. Apparently I rated no higher than the movers. I shot her a fake smile – over gritted teeth – and walked back to the entrance, not even waiting for Edward. I wasn't overly fond of Esme for a multitude of reasons, but without her connections, we wouldn't have landed this prime area first-floor apartment with a dirt cheap rent that was guaranteed to be fixed for at least a year.

Our new apartment was larger than the one in New York, which thrilled me to no end. I loved having room to stretch and grow. Edward, on the other hand, seemed somewhat intimidated by the spaciousness. Shit, just being able to put the TV in its own cabinet rather than on top the stereo was a major improvement in my eyes. Since Edward had finally relented on the piano issue, we'd been able to bring some of our furniture with us: the bed, a dresser, and a couch. The new digs came with major appliances, so we were set for the time being. We could fill in the empty holes later. Despite coming from money, Edward was pretty adamant about the whole self-sustaining thing, for which I was grateful. I don't like hand-outs. Making it on your own is what life is all about, right?

I'd just come to a stop in the living room when the uppermost box was lifted from my arms. Edward tossed me a rueful smile. "Sorry about that."

Checking to see that we were alone, I said, "Do you always let her boss you around like that?"

He shot me a look, eyebrows furrowed, and I instantly realized my tone had been a bit too acerbic. "She only has my best interests in mind, Bella. If I did get hurt, and I had to drop out of this master's program, I doubt I'd get another shot at a scholarship."

"Hurt? From a twenty pound box?"

"Just let it go, Bella," he warned.

I had no choice but to comply since Esme came marching in then, directing the movers with our couch. "Right over here," she ordered, gesturing firmly. So much for letting us put things where we want them to be.

My mood went from seriously annoyed to seriously giddy in about a fraction of a second on seeing the object of my girly wet dreams suddenly walk through the apartment entrance carrying a large paper bag and two boxes of pizza. "Hey, Dr. Cullen," I said, praying I wasn't wearing a shit-eating smile or anything. I swear just the sight of him was enough to make my pussy smack her lips together in anticipation.

"Hello, Bella." He glanced at me casually, but his eyes twinkled.

Naturally, it didn't take Esme long to ruin the moment. "Carlisle," she complained sharply, staring at his offerings. "I thought I asked you to bring a decent dinner."

He looked down at the pizza. "What's wrong with Zeek's?"

"A _decent_ meal, Carlisle, like from the Salmon House or Chandler's, not pizza."

Carlisle's expression darkened. "Well, forgive me for taking into consideration that finding and unpacking the kitchenware might be a little inconvenient for the kids right now."

"Actually, pizza sounds pretty good to me," I piped in, wishing I could just bitch slap her into the next county. I really didn't want to witness one of their infamous arguments, either – I'd heard enough of them long-distance whenever Edward would hold his phone away from his ear in exasperation, waiting for the yelling to settle so he could continue his conversation with Esme.

Edward squeezed her shoulders, placating. "It's fine, Mom. Simple is good, especially right now.

Boy, if looks could kill, the two of them would be nothing but cinders as they glared at each other. No wonder Carlisle was so eager to find comfort elsewhere; I couldn't even imagine the insanity of their home life. Quietly, I moved to the far corner of the living room and set my box down.

The tense atmosphere was broken by the sound of something big and heavy being rolled down the hallway towards our door. I stilled, trying to figure out what it could be; we didn't own anything with wheels. A tall gentleman wearing an impeccable gray uniform came into view moments later, guiding a shiny black upright piano through the entrance. I stared, dumbfounded – the thing was huge compared to what Edward had had back in New York.

The look on Edward's face said everything. His eyes went wide, and he practically ran to the door where the piano movers had stopped, his gaze adoring the instrument like a long-lost lover. "Mom?"

I glanced at Esme, but she looked equally as confused. "I'm afraid I don't understand either, honey." She turned to Carlisle…who looked rather smug, I must say.

"A Yamaha?" Edward continued, running his hands along the sleek lines. "This must have cost a fortune."

"Actually, it didn't cost anything," Carlisle explained, setting the food down on the bar that separated our kitchen area from the living room. "It was my uncle's piano; it's just been sitting in storage since my mother passed. It deserves to be cherished, not forgotten, and nobody else in my family is musically inclined. Besides, I couldn't think of anything more appropriate than this to offer as a housewarming gift, especially since you had to leave yours behind in New York."

Edward crossed the room, showing the piano movers where to place the instrument. "This is beyond amazing, Carlisle. Thank you so much."

"You're welcome."

It really was an amazing gift, one that was going to save us a shit-load of money – something I suspected was Carlisle's intent anyway given his apathetic attitude towards Edward. Predictably, Esme couldn't let the moment go without offering her own two cents' worth.

"That was very generous of you, Carlisle," she said, her tone forced. "I _was_ hoping to hear you practice more on our baby grand, Edward. It's been ages since I heard music in the house."

I blinked, unable to believe what I'd just heard. What a fucking bitch! Was her animosity towards Carlisle so intense that she couldn't even be happy for her own son? Carlisle just stared at her angrily while Edward was…well, oblivious. As usual.

"Of course I'll come by you and practice, Mom," he reassured her with a hug. "But, having a piano here too will be awesome." Edward held his hand out to Carlisle, who accepted it readily enough. I figured that was about as much affection as the two of them would ever share.

Esme's expression brightened suddenly. "In that case, we'll have to see about getting you a car, honey. That'll be my housewarming gift to you."

To Edward? Jesus Christ on a fucking pogo stick, who the hell am I, besides persona non grata number two? Apparently the wife doesn't count for much these days, not that I wasn't already prepared to argue against this particular gift anyway.

"A car?" Carlisle asked, looking shocked.

"Of course, a car," Esme shot back at him. "He'll need a way to get to our place, won't he? We're half-way across town."

"Public transportation is reasonably cheap," I offered. Nobody was listening, though, not even Carlisle, whose gaze was boring a hole in the side of Esme's head.

"Mom, I can't accept a car."

"Of course you can, honey. What about school?"

I grimaced, knowing I was talking to myself. "The added expenses aren't really in the budget, either."

"We're within walking distance of the campus," Edward argued.

Esme shoved her hands onto her hips. This was getting serious now. "You'll catch your death of cold in the winter!"

"We could also wrap ourselves around a pole or get blind-sided by a truck," I told the walls, furthering my own little rationalization against having a vehicle.

Carlisle's hands hugged his own hips defensively. "Esme, if they don't want a car, leave it alone."

"You stay out of this!" she yelled. "You gave your piano, I get to give a car, damn it!"

Let the one-upmanship fuckery begin. It was like watching a bunch of kids play King of the Hill on the playground, for fuck's sake. And the most amusing part of it all was the movers, who continued to unload our things quietly, as though nothing whatsoever was happening in the living room. They'd probably seen far worse.

"Mom," Edward tried again, but she cut him off.

"That's enough discussion. You're getting a car, and that's that. You just have to decide what kind."

He thought for a moment, his body language screaming defeat. "I don't know. Something small and economical, I guess." He turned to me, looking for guidance. Naturally. "What do you think, Bella?"

Whoa, you mean people were actually paying attention to me now? Taking a deep, exhausted breath, I said the first thing that came to mind. "A Ferrari F430 Spider. Red, six-speed manual." Hell, if she was going to pay for it, why not go for the jugular? Edward and Esme just stared at me, wide-eyed, but behind them, Carlisle was visibly trying to keep himself from laughing, his surprised grin nearly making me lose my façade of cool indifference.

"I think I need a drink," Esme finally stated, heading towards the kitchen. She looked shaken, for which I was infinitely proud. "Please tell me you remembered that, at least."

Carlisle closed his eyes against that last jab. "Yes, I remembered the wine. And the corkscrew and the cups and the paper plates and the napkins and the Coke," he rattled off with increasing impatience.

Edward slowly made his way out of the apartment, still gawking at me. "I'll be with the movers," he offered, almost as an afterthought.

I was about to follow my spineless wonder of a husband, grateful that at least I'd gotten everyone to shut up, when I noticed Carlisle heading down the hallway. A quick glance at Esme showed that she had her back to me, hard at work opening the wine, so I tip-toed my way across the room and followed him to the bathroom, sneaking in right behind him. Carlisle spun around, momentarily confused by the feel of my hands on his waist, but then a brilliant smile spread across his face as he closed and locked the door behind us.

"You're playing a dangerous game, little girl," he whispered, pressing me against the wall.

I grinned, squeezing that perfect ass of his. "Just the way I like it."

His mouth claimed mine then, all soft lips and hard teeth feasting on me relentlessly until I was breathless. He tasted so good, like fresh mint and almonds – must be a coffee drinker. Carlisle's hands wandered confidently over my body while we kissed, kneading and caressing. My inner walls tightened in agony, knowing there was no fucking way we could go as far as we wanted to.

It took a few moments for me to realize that he'd undone my jeans, but I sure as hell figured it out in a hurry when I felt his fingers slide underneath my panties and along hyper-sensitive flesh, until they found their way to my heated entrance. I gasped as he gently plunged two digits – two very long and skillful digits, mind you – inside of me while his thumb wiggled across my clit. I nearly died on the spot, bucking my hips. When I groaned softly, Carlisle pressed hard against my nub in warning, a painful reminder of how precarious the circumstances were at this very moment. I squeezed his upper arm blindly, acknowledging the message.

Those two fingers inside of me started making some magic of their own, to my utter amazement. He curled them both inward, absolutely nailing my elusive G-spot, and then began moving his whole hand back and forth in rapid strokes, stimulating me in a way I'd never felt before. It was fucking unreal! The pleasure that coiled in my core was far deeper and more intense than anything I'd ever experienced. I had to break our kiss so I could bite my lip, but even that quickly became impractical as the sensations mounted; I would have roused just a tiny bit of curiosity showing back up in the apartment bleeding profusely from my mouth.

Once again, Carlisle saved the day with one of his handkerchiefs, expertly yanked from his pocket and gently pressed part-way into my mouth. I bit down on the fabric and strained against him while he smiled down at me, looking excessively pleased with himself. As well he should, too; this was the best fucking ride of my life thus far, and there wasn't a cock in sight. I couldn't even imagine what things would be like once we were fully unclothed and had a real bed at our disposal.

My inner walls spasmed experimentally just once, a small, tentative ripple in what I thought was going to be more of a delicious, lengthy build-up, but then my groin went fucking super nova on me, the pleasure causing blue, white, and purple sparkles to explode behind my closed eyes. If it hadn't been for Carlisle, I'd have collapsed right there. He'd wrapped his left arm around my waist just in time to catch me as my legs turned to jelly.

I was trying hard not to make too much noise, and while I'd curbed the intense desire to scream until my lungs collapsed, my body was demanding more oxygen than I could pull in without panting. I spit out the handkerchief and leaned forward, resting my forehead on Carlisle's chest.

"Holy fucking shit," I whispered. He kissed the top of my head softly in response, allowing me the time I needed to catch my breath.

When I finally planted my legs firmly underneath me and looked up at him, he grinned, pulling his fingers out of my warmth, and then my jeans. I was stunned to find them glistening with whitish jizz as well as the usual moisture. Christ, he'd made me fucking squirt like a guy? I'd thought that was some bullshit Alice had made up just to piss me off back when I wasn't getting any on a regular basis. I stared at the girl cum, fascinated, my gaze following when Carlisle lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked them both clean. Without any hesitation, he lowered his face and captured my lips again, his tongue sharing the treasure with me. It even fucking tasted like cum! And here I thought I'd seen just about everything there was to see where sex was concerned…

I reached for Carlisle's pants, wanting nothing more than to return the favor, but he stopped me. "Not here." Shit, he'd spoken aloud. We both cringed, his face scrunching up in disgust.

"Why not?" I whispered. He'd gotten me off so quickly, I figured there was plenty of time.

A knock on the door put an end to all thoughts of further naughtiness, not to mention making my blood pressure rise nearly to the point of bursting every capillary in my body. "Bella, are you in there?"

Edward. Shit, shit, shit, fucking shit!

Carlisle covered my mouth gently. "Hold on," he said in a normal tone before raising his voice to be heard through the door. "Why would your wife be in here with me?"

"Oh, sorry, I thought I heard her."

"I'm on the phone with the medical center, Edward; I got paged. I have no idea where Bella is."

"Sorry," Edward repeated. "Thanks anyway." We heard him withdraw down the hallway.

I glanced at Carlisle, truly regretting for the first time my stupid decision to follow him in here. We were a hair's breadth away from being caught before this saucy little game even got to high gear. He must have read my thoughts because he smiled reassuringly and pressed a kiss to my cheek, whispering in my ear, "Stay here after I'm through. I'll distract them."

I was surprised to find my hands were shaking as I refastened my jeans. I usually handled shit like this much better, not that I'd fooled around with many married men in my lifetime. Okay, so I'd _never_ fooled around with a married man before. And I'd also never been on the 'married' end, either.

Carlisle was completely unselfconscious as he undid his own slacks and relieved himself in front of me. I enjoyed the view. A lot. And I'm positive he knew that too, judging by the tiny smirk he shot me when he tucked himself back in and flushed the toilet. After he'd retrieved the discarded handkerchief, he washed his hands and wiped them on one of the paper towels we'd set out until we could finish unpacking. Then he turned to the door, which I moved to hide behind. And I fucking prayed.

With a deep breath, Carlisle turned off the light, stepped out of the room, and started down the hallway, but he'd only taken a few steps before I heard him halt and a gruff voice that I didn't recognize mumble, "'Scuse me." I bit my lip. One of the movers?

"The toilet isn't working very well," Carlisle spoke softly.

I totally freaked, clenching my fists until I was sure my nails were drawing blood. There was no fucking place to hide! No shower curtain up yet, no linen cabinet… There weren't even any windows that I could crawl out of.

"Well, shit," I heard the man complain.

"I saw a restroom up near the lobby area, across from the stairwell." Carlisle, my savior! I will give you the best fucking blow job of your entire life for getting me out of this!

"Thanks." I heard shuffling then, and more than one pair of retreating footsteps.

"Something's wrong with the toilet?" Edward asked from somewhere in the main room.

There was a pause, and then Carlisle explained, "Did you really want the grease monkeys dirtying up your bathroom?"

Edward snorted. "Good point. Do you have to leave?"

"No, the call was just a consult. Did you find your wife?"

"Not yet."

"She's here somewhere, I'm sure," Carlisle assured. "Say, did I tell you Van Cliburn was a friend of my uncle's?"

"You're kidding?" Edward was suddenly all ears, my unknown fate a distant memory judging by the tone of his voice.

"No, I'm not. In fact, I believe he signed the inside of this piano somewhere," Carlisle continued.

"You're fucking kidding me?" I nearly laughed at Edward's enthusiasm. He was worse than a little kid. "Hey Mom, come over here!"

I vaguely heard Esme's approach. She must have been in one of the bedrooms. "What is it, honey?"

That was my cue. I poked my head slowly out of the bathroom, just enough to see what was going on. This hallway was short and dark, with no windows, so I was safe as long as I stayed put until they were fully distracted. Within a minute, Carlisle had pulled out his pen light while Edward opened up the top of the piano. When the three of them had their heads buried inside the belly of the instrument, searching for the fabled John Hancock, I made my move, quickly skirting around corners until I was at the apartment door. Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, I trudged forward as though I'd just come in.

"What gives?" I asked. Everyone turned to look at me. Even Carlisle looked convincing in his surprise.

Edward tossed me a funny look. "We were trying to find Van Cliburn's signature. Where did you run off to?"

"I went to see if management was back yet," I lied. I was getting way too good at this. "We still only have one key, remember? Who's Van Cliburn?"

"Unbelievable American pianist," Edward said excitedly, cracking a huge smile. "He won this major Tschaikovsky piano competition in Moscow during the Cold War – embarrassed the hell out of the Soviets."

I nodded, feigning interest. "Could anyone get his autograph, or did he just accommodate pianos?" A beat of silence followed before Carlisle coughed, surreptitiously acknowledging the humor no one else apparently recognized. I just stared at my husband, wondering, not for the first time, how someone so intelligent could possibly be such a moron.

Blinking vacantly at me, Edward opened his mouth to say something, but Esme beat him to it. "What's this?" she said, lifting the piano's key cover. All gazes shifted downward. I'll be damned. Carlisle hadn't made the story up after all. Right there, on the inside of the cover written in silver ink, was Van Cliburn's scriggly but discernible autograph.

"There it is," Carlisle beamed. "I knew it was here somewhere."

Edward's eyes did a total Roger Rabbit as he bent to examine the writing. "Holy crap! He touched this piano, Mom!"

The enthusiasm in Esme's voice didn't quite reach her face when she spoke, not that her son was paying any attention. "That's nice, dear," she said, patting his shoulder. "Now that the movers are gone, we should probably eat something and discuss the car issue further." She shot me a pointed look. No Ferrari then, huh? Okay, fine.

The rest of the evening passed with relative ease, pun intended. We got through dinner without any further arguments, and Edward and I got Esme to agree on a used car rather than a new one – something from a reputable seller like CarMax. My gaze never stopped straying in Carlisle's direction, though I always managed to catch myself before it got too obvious. I wasn't really worried about Edward – he was clueless, and the excitement of the piano discovery seemed to overshadow everything if his incessant chatter regarding it was any indication. No, it was Esme's feelers I was concerned about. I didn't know her well enough to gauge how perceptive she was, which made my earlier mistake even more glaring. Extreme caution was definitely the most prudent course of action while she was around, something that actually made my chest physically hurt. I wanted to touch Carlisle so badly! I wanted to run my hands through that gorgeous blond hair and taste every inch of his body from top to bottom. I hadn't even seen him unclothed yet, for Christ's sake…

My expression must have given away my frustration, because the next time I glanced in Carlisle's direction, he quirked an eyebrow at me, tilting his head in question. I offered him a generic smile, carefully masking my reaction in case other eyes were watching. Was it really worth it, I wondered? If we were ever caught, the nuclear fallout would undoubtedly remain lethal for centuries. Of course, now was a fine fucking time for me to start growing a moral compass after acting like a brazen hussy for so long. Then again, all I had to do was look at him – to stare into those mesmerizing blue-green eyes and memorize the lines of those pouty lips – to know that no matter how bad things got in the end, I was going to be the luckiest damn woman on this planet for whatever time we did have together.

Things were winding down when I quietly excused myself some time later. Carlisle and Esme were getting ready to leave anyway, so I feigned exhaustion, telling everyone I just wanted to take a bath and crawl into my sleeping bag. We had a lot of shit to unpack tomorrow, including the bed. I wanted to be ready for it.

After digging out a towel, I grabbed a pair of sweat bottoms and a tank top from my luggage, and headed for the bathroom. The hot water felt wonderful on my skin. I sank down into the heat, snorting softly when I heard the lively, albeit off-key, sound of the piano ringing through the apartment. I should have known the instrument being out of tune would hardly deter Edward from enjoying it. In a way, I envied him. He lived in such a simple world.

I was so relaxed, so lulled by the music and the warmth surrounding me, that I almost missed the dull sound of my phone vibrating. Reaching for my jeans, I pulled it from the pocket and glanced at the text.

_**you ok?**_

I smiled sadly and texted back, **i want you so badly it hurts**.

_**patience, grasshopper**_, he replied. _**devising another distraction as we text**_.

Laughing, I felt the weight of our situation lighten just a bit. **touch yourself tonight**, I sent confidently, knowing he would.

_**i'll think of you**__. __**good night beautiful**_.

I stared at the words, realizing with a start that Edward had never referred to me in that way, either as a compliment or an endearment. He'd never said anything even remotely close. And until this moment, I really hadn't cared.

Closing my eyes against the unexpected quill of sadness that lanced my heart, I took a deep, steadying breath. This was supposed to be a simple affair…if affairs could be qualified in such a manner: just two people fucking each other for the sheer pleasure of it all. So, why then did it suddenly seem so complicated?

(~ * ~ * ~)


	5. The Art of Jealousy

**Disclaimer****: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things **_**Twilight**_**-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Disclaimer #2: All non-Twilight characters in this story are entirely fictional. I pulled the names, including the last names of certain recognizable characters, out of my head; any resemblance to real people, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.**

**Author's Notes: Sorry gang - I've been sidelined with a major neck injury that's made sitting in front of my computer for any length of time nearly impossible, and since I have to do just that all day at work…well, you get the picture. I am very behind, and will probably remain so for some time. Thank you so much to those of you who nominated my stories in the Hopeless Romantic Awards - I'm very, very honored!**

**Warning: AH/AU.**

**Many thanks once again to my wonderful beta, Carol, for all her help. Any mistakes in the final draft are entirely my own.**

(~ * ~ * ~)

Tossing my surgical gown into the laundry bin, I headed for the sink and began my scrub down. As usual, Jane's gaze slid hungrily along my body while she tidied the prep area. She'd been watching me like this for years, and while her tiny little frame usually caused a bit of a stir in my nether regions, there was something in her eyes that warned me to keep my distance. It was elusive, just a spark that flickered in those blue depths once in a great while, but I'd seen it enough to know I wasn't imagining things. She enjoyed pain. Probably had a set of leathers and various riding crops hidden somewhere, too. Now, I'm all for trying new escapades in the bedroom, and I'd enjoyed some light bondage and other similar harmless kinkiness in my time, but the heavier stuff just isn't my thing. Besides, the mess I'd had to endure after fucking one of the nurses years ago proved the old adage was dead on: never mix business with pleasure. The ensuing nightmare just wasn't worth it.

After wiping my arms dry, I left surgery without a backward glance. Between Jane's scrutiny and the adrenaline rush I always experienced after a successful procedure, my cock was starting to feel pretty damned happy. Since scrubs were generally less forgiving when it came to hiding such things, I needed to get to my office before I embarrassed myself. Unfortunately, I was stopped half-way there by Irene, one of the PM nurses. She had such a lovely disposition – reminded me of Nurse Ratched.

"Your wife called. Twice," she growled quietly, leveling me with that glassy, hypnotic glare of hers. "Don't you own a cell phone?"

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. "I do, and I'm very sorry she bothered you."

"Emergencies only, Dr. Cullen. Any other calls are just wasting our time."

"Understood," I offered kindly, pinching the bridge of my nose once she'd gone on her not-so-merry way. Damn it.

I continued down the hallway, my gait a little less casual than before. This wasn't the first time Esme had blatantly disregarded medical center rules. Punching in my security code, I waited for the telltale click before throwing my office door open. It slowly closed behind me as I dug out my phone and turned it on. Seven fucking missed calls, all from Esme.

Steeling myself, I tapped the return call button, silently counting cute fuzzy ducklings in my head in an effort to calm down. I should have known it wouldn't work. I'd only gotten to number two when she picked up, her words quietly dripping venom. "Where the hell are you? The showing started nearly forty minutes ago."

"I had an emergency surgery!" I roared, not giving a shit if some of her well-to-do patrons in the background could hear me. "But you already knew that, didn't you, after calling the ER desk twice?"

"Lower your voice!" Esme hissed. "You know how much tonight means to me!" It was fucking amazing how self-centered she was, totally oblivious to the rest of the world.

I took a deep breath. The anger wasn't helping me, either; my blood pressure was already high for a man my age. "I will be there, Esme," I said, glancing at the garment bag hanging on the back of my door. "I just need to wrap up the paperwork and change. It's still early, and your little soirée isn't going anywhere." Not as long as the alcohol was flowing, anyway.

Her voice changed dramatically then, rising to a perky, playful tone. "All right, honey, I'll see you when you get here." Obviously someone had approached her on the other end. "Love you, too."

Snorting, I closed the line, not bothering with a response. I hated this shit. All of it. Hell, I hated it more than I hated bowel resections, and that was saying something. It was bad enough that Esme and I didn't get along about ninety-five percent of the time, but when we had to play nice in front of the public, pretending to be the perfect couple, it practically made me break out in hives.

With an exhausted sigh, I tossed my cell onto the desk. Technically, I'd lied about the paperwork part. All surgical theatres were equipped with dictation recorders that rolled during operations. It saved a hell of a lot of time just being able to recite what we were doing as it happened. The tapes were then sent to the transcriptionists, and all I needed to do was look over the final report and add my electronic signature to it. Esme would never be the wiser for it, though; she had as much interest in what I did for a living than she had in what the rest of the planet's population was up to. If it didn't affect her own little world, she didn't care. I really just wanted a few minutes to relax before putting on my tux and happy mask. I'd already had a long enough day; the only thing keeping me going at this point was the fact that I'd get to see Bella tonight at the showing.

"Isabella…" I whispered, letting the name roll off my tongue seductively.

My cock twitched at the sound. Reaching down, I palmed myself through the fabric, groaning at the wash of pleasure that spread through my groin. She'd looked so damned beautiful the other day, pressed against their bathroom wall, her face flushed as she'd writhed against my hand. No one had ever touched her that way before; I could tell by the shocked look in her eyes. Certainly not Edward. Hell, I had absolutely no doubt in my mind that she'd taken Edward's virginity. Knowing him, he probably still had trouble finding that exquisitely warm entrance of hers.

Willing away all thoughts of my step-son, I focused entirely on visions of Bella as I sat down and got comfortable in my desk chair, untying the laces of my scrub bottoms. I freed my cock, my mouth falling open as I slowly slid my foreskin up and down, spreading the moisture gathering at the tip. I shuddered at the sensations, filling my mind with the memory of that night…the first time I'd laid eyes on Isabella Swan.

She'd been standing all alone in the middle of that crowded reception area at Juilliard, dressed in the cutest black mini – strapless, showing off those delicate shoulders and a pair of legs that stretched on forever. I'd never seen such long legs on someone so tiny before. My left hand wandered lower as I recalled that delicious sight, fondling my sac.

Bella had been uncomfortable that evening, I could tell. The way she'd held herself had told me she wasn't used to wearing such clothing, which, in turn, suggested she wasn't used to the kind of formal affair in which she'd found herself. A small part of me had felt sorry for her, wondering how she'd come to be there in the first place. The largest part of me, of course, had wanted nothing more than to pin her to the wall and fuck her silly, the need to feel those legs wrapped around me having nearly robbed me of all my breath. Suddenly, another memory elbowed its way to the forefront: that of the empty lounge…the store room…those beautiful limbs wrapped around me for real as I'd pounded into her…

"Fuck," I gasped, gripping my cock firmly. Those sounds she'd made had driven me wild, soft little breathless whimpers. She'd clung to me so desperately, fisting my hair with one hand while I'd rocked her world quite literally. My hand slid along the length my cock as I relived our tryst, twisting exquisitely on on the up-strokes. I wanted to draw this out, to enjoy this private moment before reality intruded once again, but I already felt the telltale tingling in my balls. Thinking about Bella just put my body into overdrive.

My hand sped to a blur. I hadn't spanked myself in quite a few days; this was going to be a good one. Tightening my pelvic muscles, I encouraged the pleasure to ignite, bucking and panting and swearing under my breath as the vision of Bella's smooth pussy popped into my brain. That was all it took – I groaned as I exploded all over my hand and scrub top. And it was fucking amazing, too, with tiny pinpricks of colored light bursting behind my closed eyes.

I was still shuddering, just holding myself as the sensations dissipated, when my phone went off, its muted ring tone jarring the post-euphoric atmosphere. Gritting my teeth, I snatched the offending gadget off my desk, fully expecting it to be Esme again, and blindly punched the talk button. "WHAT NOW?"

A beat of silence, then, "My, my, aren't we grouchy tonight."

I blinked, then checked the caller ID just to be sure. "Bella?"

She giggled. "What on Earth has you so riled up?"

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, grateful for the ease of our conversation. "Who, not what."

"Hmm," she acknowledged. Words weren't necessary, not after all she'd seen of my disastrous marriage so far. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"I wish I could help."

I grinned. "You did. Just before you called, I blew my load thinking about that luscious little body of yours."

She gasped. "No way!"

"Are you someplace safe?" I asked. She and Edward were probably already at the gallery.

"I'm alone in one of the back offices."

"Hold on." I held the phone in front of me, tapping the picture app to life. After a few seconds of angling it just right, I took a snap of my limp cock resting comfortably amid the sea of come, all clearly visible against the dark blue of my scrubs, and sent it to her. "Check your inbox."

I heard a soft beep as she did just that, followed closely by the sound of her laughing. "Holy shit, that's a lot of jizz! Must have felt good."

"Oh, it did, baby, believe me," I said. "I just wish you could have been here to share it with me."

Bella snorted. "Yeah, well I just wish you'd get your ass over here pretty soon. I'm being suffocated by all the snobbishness."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Welcome to my world."

"Fuck that shit."

Oh, she was rich. I leaned back into my chair and laughed soundlessly as she ranted on about all the Esme types in attendance. What a refreshing change of pace, listening to someone who genuinely piqued my curiosity and interest.

"Isabella, my dear," I finally interrupted. "As much as I'd love to continue this conversation, I should really get a move on. I can't wait to see you in person."

"You gonna eye fuck me all night again?" she asked, and I was instantly transported back to the Juilliard reception hall.

I inhaled deeply. "I'm gonna damn well try."

"Good," was all she said before the line went dead. Jesus Christ, I wanted her so badly it hurt…

Standing, I quickly pulled off my top and headed for the garment bag. Despite my public obligations to my wife, tonight was really about lust and tantalizing anticipation. Let the games begin anew.

(~ * ~ * ~)

Downtown Seattle on a Friday night is a motorist's worst nightmare, something to be avoided at all costs. I shook my head impatiently at the traffic jam in which I'd found myself. Fucking ridiculous. Sixth Avenue was backed up beyond all recognition, so as soon as I hit Seneca, I hung a left and prayed to any god listening that one of the lower streets was at least crawling at a steady pace. And apparently someone upstairs was smiling at me – I was able to cruise down 1st all the way to Blanchard, which held my final destination.

Pulling up to the gallery, I got out and slapped a fifty dollar bill into the hand of the valet who rushed around to greet me. They were all college kids, working nights and weekends to help fund their education; this was the only way many of them would ever see the inside of a luxury car. I stood on the sidewalk long enough to watch the young man gently ease my Mercedes back into traffic and head for the parking structure further down the block. As much as I sympathized with these kids, I wanted to make sure my generous tip was doing its job. Once the car was out of sight, I pocketed my ticket and headed inside.

Visions de Gaze was one of only a handful of art galleries in the Seattle area that attracted the rich and power-hungry to its doors. I suppose I should be proud that Esme was one of the owners, but I was really just grateful she had a real job to occupy her time. My first wife had graduated to the rank of professional socialite the moment she had my ring on her finger, never lifting a single one of them thereafter for anything other than eating, using her cell phone, or passing a credit card to a store associate. I didn't particularly care for people who felt that contributing to society was beneath them just because they were wealthy, a mindset that pretty much put me at odds with Esme's favorite crowd. That was another reason these functions were so insufferable. Bella had nailed it perfectly – the stench of haughtiness and old money would permeate the place for days afterward.

As I walked in, I was greeted by a young woman who looked about Bella's age, maybe younger. I didn't recognize her, but she apparently knew who I was, as she waved me through without having to show an invitation. Probably just as well, since Esme hadn't bothered to give me one.

I spotted my wife in the main wing, surrounded by a small herd of newspaper vultures and some very important-looking people. Sucking in a lungful of perfume-laden air, I made my way in her direction. Might as well get this Mr. & Mrs. Cleaver moment over with. I grabbed a champagne flute from a passing waiter and drained the whole thing in a few gulps, setting the empty glass on the next waiter's tray. Show time.

"Oh, honey, you made it," Esme beamed at me as I approached. She was a magnificent actress. I wasn't too shabby myself either after all these years.

I turned on my hundred-watt smile, wrapped my arm around her, and planted a big kiss on her lips while flash bulbs sizzled around us. We'd be on tomorrow's Society Page for sure. "Apologies for my tardiness," I told everyone within earshot.

"Yes, Esme told us you were delayed because of your life-saving heroics," the elder woman next to me drawled. Someone her age should definitely not be wearing that much makeup. Or a fucking tiara, for God's sake. "You're a commendable young man, Dr. Cullen."

I nearly laughed. At forty-eight, I was hardly young, though I suppose by her standards… "Thank you," I acknowledged.

Esme rubbed my back, playing the loving wife. "Carlisle, you remember Eunice Pitt, from the Pitt Foundation?" she introduced. "Her husband Charles owned Demlar Enterprises."

Nodding respectfully, I gently kissed the woman's frail hand – only because she held it out to me in that manner, as though it were expected. "It's an honor to have you here tonight, madam." Her face lit up as I winked at her. That's one for team Cullen Charm; only about fifty more to go.

The next twenty minutes saw me making the rounds with Esme, playing a furious game of Who's Who in Seattle. Receptions like this were all about who knows whom and who owns this company or sits on that board of directors. People who think they're important. To think I'd been surrounded by this kind of shit my whole life, and I still wasn't comfortable with it – it was mind boggling.

"And of course you remember Marco Romandini, don't you, Carlisle?" Esme asked, dragging me towards the back wall where a tall, olive-skinned gentleman was silently contemplating the artwork on display. Thank God I made the connection before he turned around to greet us; his name _was_ written all over the welcome easel, after all.

"Ah, yes," I grinned, shaking his hand. "The man of the hour. Congratulations. I haven't had a chance to take in your work yet, but the night is still young."

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen." His Italian accent was like fine merlot, smooth and smokey…and irritating for some inexplicable reason. Esme hadn't stopped talking about his artwork for months, going on and on about how lucky Seattle was to have such a talented artist in residence. What the fuck he came here for when the rest of the art world flocked to Europe, I'll never understand. Maybe he liked rain. The paintings on the wall behind him – part of his featured collection for this showing – did seem to have an overstated gloominess about them.

I was momentarily distracted by movement in my peripheral vision. Black against pale skin…unbearably long legs. My gaze strayed to the entryway to the other room, and just like that, my heart did a flip-flop. There she was, wearing the exact same black mini she'd worn in New York, only this time, instead of blushing at my warm regard, she grinned back, striking a tempting yet innocent pose as she leaned against the wall, fingers toying absently with her wine glass. Her hair was pulled up into an elegant French twist – definitely someone else's influence there, but it suited her remarkably well. She looked exquisite.

And then, without warning, Bella's expression morphed, the teasing glint in her eyes disappearing along with her smile. She was looking past me, I realized…at Esme. Confused, I watched as her gaze dropped and then began scanning the room, focusing everywhere but on me. Unfortunately, my curious scrutiny was interrupted as another patron joined our group; this time it was one of the city's elected officials. More self-importance rearing its well-groomed head. Naturally, the photo op was too hard for the press to resist, so the flashbulbs started up again. Esme curled into me, and I reacted without thinking, rubbing her arm and pressing a kiss to her temple. When I risked a glance at Bella a few minutes later, I was stunned to find her staring rather darkly at the two of us. She took a deep swill of her wine, her gaze drifting away once more before she turned and walked into the other room. Suddenly, it clicked, and the urge to laugh hysterically seized my throat. I managed to choke it it back though, remembering proper decorum. She was fucking jealous! Watching me paying attention to my wife had her hackles raised in the worst way, the little minx. Oh, teasing her about this was going to be a riot.

Another round of photographs and some useless chatter later, I succeeded in slipping away from my duties as a doting husband. Esme was busy sucking up to potential donors, and I'd shared brief, obligatory conversations with just about everyone in attendance, minus a few of the "lesser" people whom Esme considered charity cases where filling the guest list was concerned. Now I could relax and enjoy myself.

As I made my way into the other room, I realized the piano music I'd been hearing wasn't a recording – Edward was seated at a baby grand at the far end of the room, playing a rousing version of _Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man_. He was totally lost to the world, his whole body swaying with the rhythm. Despite his complete lack of a backbone, Edward really was a fine musician. I'd had no problem giving him Uncle Rich's prize piano, even though I'm sure my mother is still rolling in her grave at such audacity.

"Hello, Carlisle."

Shit. Double shit, at that. I paused, mid-step, as the calm, slippery voice slid over me. I didn't even need to turn around. "Hello, Victoria." If ever there was a snake in the grass – or, more appropriately, a fucking king cobra – it was Victoria Ellerby, Esme's business partner. The woman was viciousness incarnate, all disguised in pretty smiles and knowing looks. She didn't just enjoy figuratively emasculating men; she liked to disembowel them, casually interpreting their entrails as a sign of her good fortune. She'd slept with most of the prominent men in Seattle, myself included, bringing each and every one of them to their knees in her quest for money and power. Those two stolen nights we'd shared fifteen years ago during my first marriage had cost me dearly.

Victoria slowly appeared in my line of sight, her bright red hair hanging in ringlets that looked to me like a shower of blood. How apropos. I avoided making eye contact as long as possible. As with a seriously pissed off dog, she tended to take that as a challenge. "It's nice to see you again," she said, her voice oozing arrogance.

I forced a grin. "Always a pleasure." I needed another drink. Badly.

"That daughter-in-law of yours is quite the little hottie."

I froze, my gaze searing holes in those piercing baby blues of hers before I tempered myself. No need to panic. Yet. I shouldn't have been surprised; leave it to Victoria to go straight for the kill, whether she stood a chance of nailing it or not. She knew damn well Bella was my type. "I didn't realize you were so inclined," I offered, quirking my brow.

A sneer slowly spread across her freckled face. Why I'd thought I could take a swipe at her without paying for it, I don't know. "Oh, Carlisle, you are fresh, aren't you?"

"As a summer breeze," I punned, plucking a glass of wine from a waiter who conveniently walked by. Finally, some alcohol.

Victoria lowered her face somewhat, causing her to stare up at me through her eyelashes. I recognized the gesture: she was digging in for a fight. The woman was a gravity well for upheaval and negativity – she ate this shit up like candy. The fact that she even remotely suspected there could be something between me and Bella was a huge cause for concern because I knew she wouldn't let it go. She'd been watching me for years, looking for any obvious signs of philandering on my part – anything with which she could use to incapacitate me on Esme's behalf. I'd always found it ironic how loyal Victoria was to her female friends while she had no trouble at all ripping men to shreds. Must be some serious Daddy issues at work. She'd just opened her mouth to speak again when the determined click of approaching high heels distracted us both.

"There you are, Vicki," Esme said, grinning from ear to ear. "Roger DeChant wants to do a feature article on the gallery. He needs us both for the interview." Victoria's expression brightened at the news; obviously the verbal gutting would have to wait for another day. "And Carlisle," Esme continued, shooting me a distasteful glare, "please do something about Bella. She's been sulking all evening; it makes us look bad."

I blinked several times, biting the inside of my cheek as the two of them turned to leave. Victoria shot me a curious look as she walked by – amusement laced with a touch of maliciousness. Oh, yes; she was out for blood. It was only a matter of time. "What an amazing little viper pit you've walked into, Carlisle," I murmured quietly to myself as I sipped my wine. The smooth burn of the liquid did little to assuage the growing knot in my stomach.

Subdued applause rippled through the air as Edward finished his song. He grinned, nodding politely in acknowledgment before continuing the entertainment, this time with the romantic strains of _Music of the Night_. I was instantly set at ease by the melody from one of my favorite musicals. Perhaps the excitement I'd longed for this evening could be salvaged after all.

Taking a deep breath, I scanned the room, looking for the only person who seemed capable of putting a smile on my face lately. I found her standing in front of a large painting situated near the makeshift bar. Her face sported such a confused look as she gazed at the artwork; it made me chuckle. I strolled slowly across to where she was, taking the rare opportunity to admire her openly while all opposing forces were otherwise occupied. She was simply beautiful – a touch or two shy of the refined elegance with which wealthy women held themselves at these events, but that just made her all the more endearing to me. Everything she did or said was real, not mired in layer upon layer of deceptive meaning. And God, those legs…I could get lost in them for hours, licking every square inch up and down, before spending a few more tasting the rest of her. My cock agreed wholeheartedly, straining against the confines of my boxer briefs.

I came to a stop beside her. She knew I was there, but she kept her focus on the painting while the tension between us sizzled. I was just about to offer a sincere compliment on her lovely appearance when she finally spoke. "I don't get it."

Glancing up at the semi abstract work, I saw her point. "I believe it's a sunset," I clarified, entirely unconvinced that this particular artist was worthy of all the fuss he was being given.

Bella snorted. "What, after a volcanic eruption? It's all black and gray."

I choked on my drink, secretly hoping everyone nearby had heard her. After I'd gotten my disguised cough-laughter under control, I quietly replied, "That's what we art connoisseurs call metaphorical bullshit."

Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized the work more closely. "Well, I don't know much about metaphors, but bullshit…that I do know. And this fits. Who is this guy, anyway?"

I turned to face her, wanting to keep one eye on the goings-on behind us. "Some well renowned Italian painter."

"He needs some major therapy."

Chuckling, I watched as the subject of our conversation stepped into the room, making his way towards a small group of patrons near the piano. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small bell went off as I eyed him. There was something about the way he moved that seemed familiar, though why it should was beyond me. I blinked, then brushed it off. I had better things to concentrate on right now. Much better things.

"So," I began, "are you enjoying yourself tonight?"

She snorted again. "Not."

"You look very beautiful."

Bella turned to look at me, a cool spark igniting in those alluring brown eyes. She took a long, slow drink of her wine, pointedly remaining silent. I absolutely could not hold back the grin that crept onto my face as our stare-down continued.

I dipped a finger into my drink and casually ran it around the rim until the glass sang softly. "You're jealous," I said, my voice almost a whisper.

"I'm not your wife." Defiance hung on every word, her tone making my cock twitch.

"You are, aren't you?" I prodded.

Her gaze flitted away from mine. "That's ridiculous."

I tilted my head somewhat, the movement drawing her attention back. "You wanted to be the one in my arms, didn't you…feeling my hands and lips?" She swallowed, a faint blush suffusing her cheeks. I had no doubt her heart was racing as well. "Were you remembering how it felt when I touched you, Isabella?" I continued, silently cheering as she bit her lower lip. "Did it make you wet?"

The corner of her mouth suddenly tugged upward, her cool demeanor warming noticeably. "Would you like to find out?"

"Not here," I stressed, softening the words with a sly grin. Definitely not here.

"I've heard that before."

I could tell she was closing herself off again, but I suspected there was more to it than just seeing me and Esme together. If she was half as frustrated as I was at not being able to hook up, I really couldn't blame her.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced slowly around the room. "I take it you were introduced to Victoria at some point?"

"The über bitch with the red hair?"

I laughed softly. "That's an understatement."

"She doesn't scare me."

My gaze swung back to Bella's, and I paused for emphasis before responding. "She should." At Bella's curious expression, I continued, "One doesn't attempt anything even remotely malapropos in Victoria's territory. She can smell intrigue a mile away, and her claws are infused with hydrochloric acid."

Bella's brow rose. "I'm sensing a history here."

I snorted in disgust, tossing back the rest of my wine. "One I'd rather forget, thank you." As long as I lived in this town, there was no way to escape that particular mistake, unfortunately.

"Poor Carlisle," Bella teased, determination alight in her eyes once again. "You just need a little _tension release_."

"Bella…" I warned, ignoring the fact that my cock was practically screaming for me to take action.

She smirked. "There's an alley out back. Lots of traffic noise."

Jesus, she'd scoped out the area already? "We would be missed."

"Mmmm," Bella hummed, looking rather smug. "Too bad for you."

Taking another sip, she turned, keeping her gaze locked with mine, and started walking away. I grinned as I watched her retreat to the piano. Edward was just finishing with his _Phantom_ medley; he looked up at her and smiled. Taking him by the hand, she tugged him off the bench and into a hug. I saw her lips moving, and then Edward leaned down, as if to hear her better. It wasn't hard to guess what she'd said, especially when his eyes bulged, a silent bark of laughter shaking him. _Oh, Bella, what a delightful tease you are!_ I couldn't wait to return the favor when I finally had her alone and all to myself.

Edward glanced sheepishly around the room. I turned back to the painting and tempered my expression, pretending to be enthralled with the mediocre work when he looked in my general direction. Let them have their fun. I knew Bella would be closing her eyes and pretending it was me fucking her senseless anyway. That alone made me feel as though I'd already won this secret little battle of wills.

I forced myself not to acknowledge the unfolding hijinks when I noticed Bella making her way towards the back hallway. Edward followed unobtrusively a few minutes later. The only rooms in the back were the offices, storage vaults, and restrooms – plenty of private little fuck corners, even if they didn't make use of the alley. A small, perverted part of me briefly considered wandering after them to watch and jerk myself off, and I might have done just that had I not been tormented by hellish visions of succubi with wavy red hair. Just a single misstep, and Victoria would hang us both with a single noose. I wasn't going to let that happen, period. Instead, I set my empty glass on the bar and turned my attention to the artwork on display. God, Bella was right; this guy had issues. His use of bland, monochromatic color schemes was uninspiring at best. What the hell did Esme see in his work, anyway?

A round of laughter caught my attention, and I glanced at the party gathered around Romandini. His pearly smile rankled me, like an annoying mosquito bite that can't be soothed. What frustrated me even further was the fact that I couldn't seem to figure out _why_ I was bothered in the first place. He was just a fucking misguided artist, for pity's sake. Confident to a T, I'd never been jealous of other good looking men, and I certainly wasn't envious of his talent – or lack thereof in this case. Yet, there was something about him that made my jaw clench.

I was about to let all those irrational thoughts go when he turned around to greet another patron. And that's when it hit me. My gaze slid purposefully down the dark silk of his short-sleeved shirt to rest on his perfectly accentuated glutes. I knew that ass. I'd had a front row seat as it streaked across my back yard by moonlight some weeks ago.

So that's who's been fucking my wife. In our bed.

A tempting tray of champagne flutes materialized beside me, and I silently blessed the waiter who'd unknowingly appeared at just the right moment. I grabbed one, gesturing for him to wait as I tipped it back, downing the whole thing in a single draught before setting it back on the tray and picking up another. At my terse nod, he backed away, seemingly unfazed by my display. He'd probably seen far worse at events like these. I certainly had. There was always a sot among the crowd, someone who didn't know when to stop and didn't give a shit about his or her behavior. At least my slight overindulgence tonight was justified.

Turning my attention back to the asshole in question, I scrutinized his appearance. He was taller than me by at least a few inches, but I could tell even through layers of clothing that he wasn't nearly as muscular as I was. He probably just sat around all day, pondering ridiculous subject matter for his equally ridiculous artistic endeavors, believing himself to be some deep, meaningful thinker. The pathetic bastard. He was far too hairy as well, his arms resembling some bizarre otherworldly creatures that needed professional grooming on a regular basis. No doubt his legs and chest sported the same unsightly excess. Shit, he'd probably been shedding all over my bed, for Christ's sake.

_Did you enjoy fucking her, you stupid fuck? Were her cries of passion music to your ears?_

I took a hearty swallow of my drink, remembering that night with perfect clarity. He'd made her laugh and squeal in ways I'd never been able to, and for some goddamned reason that really bothered me despite my rather unfavorable opinion of Esme. What the hell did he have that I didn't?

Romandini chose that moment to turn back towards me, his expression still radiant from whatever polite praise he'd been given. His gaze locked with mine, and in an instant I transformed from spiteful spouse to gracious admirer, lifting my glass in a silent toast. He smiled back, nodding his head in deference. Then I did something that surprised even me: I winked. He visibly flinched at my gesture, eyes widening as his grin faltered. Ahhh, leave it to my inner demon to know exactly how to handle this kind of twisted circumstance.

_You wanna fuck with me? Go ahead. I'll fuck with you right back._

One of his hands ran through his hair as he looked at the people around him, obviously trying to recapture the moment, but his gaze inevitably drifted back to mine. Smelling victory – and fear – in the air, I turned up the heat, puckering my lips in a touchless kiss that I sent hurling across the distance between us. When he blanched, it was all I could do not to fall to my knees, laughing. He probably wouldn't have the balls to tell Esme about my unexpected behavior, but if he did, I'd give my left eye to be a fly on the wall.

A crash suddenly filled the air, distracting me from my amusement. The room came to a momentary standstill as one of the waiters juggled a tray of toppled drinks while trying to hold up the obviously inebriated young woman who clung to him, giggling madly. I shook my head at the disgraceful scene. The floor around them was a mess of shattered glass and alcohol. Even the display case in the middle of the room that housed several sculptures wasn't spared, beads of red wine decorating the glass enclosure. Esme appeared quickly from the other room, and judging by the look on her face, there would be yet another name added to her dreaded 'Do Not Invite' list. Even while annoyed, she remained a gracious host as she gently peeled the woman off the poor hired help and led her to one of the few tables that had been set up for the event. The rest of the waiters were already converging, armed with brooms and mops – efficient, as always. In five minutes, nobody would be able to guess anything out of the ordinary had happened. Indeed, most of the guests had already gone back to their mingling, simply steering clear of the affected area.

Seeing that everything was under control, I risked glancing back towards my favorite asshole, only to find that he'd taken full advantage of the disruption and excused himself. The fucker was nowhere in sight. This time I couldn't hold back my laughter, though I managed to be inconspicuous about it. More mischief was definitely in order before the evening was through – maybe even some verbal flirtation if I could get away with it. That ought to confuse Victoria immensely, since I knew she'd be watching me like a hawk.

A blur of black and cream intruded upon my peripheral vision, and I knew instantly who it was. I turned my head to watch, unable to hold back the smile that curled my lips. My heart swelled…then seized in panic all at once as the moment stretched into an eternity. I could see every detail with perfect clarity, anticipate every action and reaction, but in the split seconds it took for everything to happen, all I could really do was acknowledge the adrenaline rush that surged through my system. Clearly distraught over something, Bella marched across the room, unaware that there had been a mishap only minutes before. Her determined stride carried her straight into the freshly mopped area. The next thing I knew, those long, beautiful legs of hers were sliding out from under her, followed closely by the overwhelming sight of her bare pussy flashing me from beneath the hem of her dress. I stood there, still transfixed, until the sound of her head making contact with the corner of the nearby display case's wooden frame forced all my instincts to react simultaneously.

I bolted forward, shoving my glass into the hands of the nearest patron. Blindly reaching for my handkerchief, I realized that I hadn't replaced the one I'd lost at the wedding reception yet. No matter – the linen cloth draped over the arm of that waiter would do just fine. I grabbed it, nearly causing yet another accident as he startled, and then slowed my pace as I encountered the still wet floor. Bella's face was contorted with pain as I kneeled beside her, laying the cloth across her thighs in an effort to help preserve her modesty.

"Bella?" I gently probed the back of her head. She hissed and tried to shift away from me. "Try not to move just yet."

"It really hurts," she gasped. Her eyes were clenched shut.

I heard heels approaching, and then Esme was at my side. "Oh, my God! Is she all right?" It was all a show, of course. My wife was about as fond of Bella as I was of her son, but there was no way she'd let her wealthy guests think such a thing.

"Get me an ice pack of some kind, quickly." The lump on Bella's head was swelling rapidly.

Esme stood up and disappeared behind me. I vaguely heard her voice, and judging by the tone, I was certain she was issuing orders and reprimands – her favorite pastime. I ignored it all, though, focusing entirely on my patient.

"Bella," I continued, "can you open your eyes for me?" I fished out the pen light I always kept with me and switched it on. She did as I'd asked, and as she gazed at me, it suddenly felt as though all the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Her makeup was slightly smudged from traitorous tears and her once immaculate coif had loosened in the fall, a few locks of hair now plastered defiantly along her cheek, yet in that moment, she was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. Not exactly the kind of thought I should have been having at that particular moment – or _ever_, if I were to be completely honest with myself. She wasn't mine. She could never be mine, at least not for anything except clandestine trysts that had yet to even commence in full beyond our initial indiscretion. Besides, I reminded myself bitterly, every woman to whom I'd ever shown more than casual lust had managed to sink proverbial daggers into the most vulnerable places of my heart anyway. On some level, they were all the same. Even Bella, with her marital pretense.

"Carlisle?"

I shook off my lapse. "Hold still," I said as I flashed the light beam into each of her eyes. Vitals looked good so far. "Are you in pain anywhere else, Bella?"

One of her hands pressed against the growing contusion. "You mean other than my ass?"

Chuckling, I held her shoulders still when she tried to get up. "Not so fast, young lady. How many fingers am I holding up?"

She rolled her eyes, but answered, "Three," correctly.

"What day it is?"

"Friday."

"Do you remember where you are?"

Bella hesitated, glancing around. "The art gallery. Can you please get me out of here? Everyone's staring," she whispered.

Normally, I would have preferred to do a more thorough exam before moving her, but she did have a point. Until that moment, I'd blocked out the rest of the world. Now, as I looked around us, I realized just what a spectacle we were causing. Heaven forbid we should detract from Esme's shining moment – or that of her artistically challenged fuck buddy.

"All right," I relented, adding, "slowly," for emphasis. Bracing herself with one arm, Bella inched her way to a sitting position, and then, with my help, all the way up until she was standing. Her equilibrium proved to be less than stable, though, even after she'd stepped out of her shoes – something I'd both feared and expected – so, I quickly lifted her into my arms, praying that I could get her someplace quiet before someone, most notably my wife, realized she wasn't wearing any underwear.

I quickly made my way to Esme's office, purposely asking Bella to open the door so I could further gauge her response and coordination. Once inside, I set her on the ridiculously ornate sofa my wife had purchased from the Agnes Martin estate years ago. If you asked me, the wide peppermint-striped upholstery fell more under 'obnoxious eye-sore' than 'dignified conversation piece,' as Esme had insisted. I wouldn't be surprised if the pattern made Bella's head hurt worse.

"Are you feeling any tingling in your limbs?" I asked, scanning Esme's desk for something appropriate with which to test her reflexes.

"No. My head's a bit fuzzy…underneath all the pain."

I offered her a sympathetic smile. "Understandable. That was a nasty fall."

Esme swept into the room just as I spied her brass letter opener. "I'm sorry it took so long." Wow, an apology. Tonight's guests must really be important for her to put on such a convincing performance behind the scenes.

She handed me a twisted cloth bulging with ice, and I immediately applied it to Bella's head. As soon as the cold enveloped Bella's sensitive injury, she grimaced, her eyes snapping shut. "Can you hold this up?" I asked, cradling her chin in my palm.

"Yeah," she whispered, taking over the task.

Esme exhaled loudly. "Will she be okay or not, Carlisle?" Ah, there's the snippy, impatient bitch I married.

Using the phlegmatic doctor tone I knew Esme hated so much, I replied, "That remains to be seen. Concussion symptoms don't always present immediately. She'll have to be observed over the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."

Glaring, Esme turned to leave. "Just keep her out of the way. She's done enough damage already."

A nasty retort curled on the edge of my tongue, but I bit it back. Bella didn't need to get caught in the middle of yet another of our arguments, especially when she wasn't feeling well. After counting to ten, I turned back to my patient, only to find her gazing up at me sadly. "Ignore her, Bella," I said. "She's not happy unless she's tearing someone else down. You're just a convenient target."

Bella snorted. "That sort of shit doesn't bother me; I just want this pain to stop."

Smiling, I reached for the letter opener I'd found earlier. "Bear with me for a few minutes longer. Then I'll find you some ibuprofen." Bella was still clutching the towel I'd used to cover her. I gestured towards it. "May I steal that?" She relinquished it without question, and I wrapped a double layer of it around the palm-end of the brass opener. "All right, let's have you sit on the desk for me."

Helping her up, I shadowed her movement as she unsteadily crossed the few feet necessary to reach the antique French secretaire. After clearing a spot for her to sit down, I used my makeshift plexor on her knees and elbows. Both areas showed normal reflex response despite her continued equilibrium problems.

"Will I live, Doctor?" That playful tone was back in full. Part of me – the part spelled c-o-c-k – cheered wildly, while another part of me cringed. The restrooms were right next to Esme's office. Anyone could be standing out in the hallway, listening.

"I think you just might." I managed a grin even though I shot her a warning look…which was altogether ignored as I suddenly felt her calf rubbing against my groin. I bit my tongue to keep from groaning and quickly pushed her leg back where it belonged. "Not. Here," I whispered, intensifying my gaze.

Bella smirked. "Then take me home," she whispered back. "Tell everyone you need to watch me for a while."

I quirked my brow, pretending to play along. "No Edward?"

"Fuck Edward," she emphasized quietly. "He pissed me off. I'd rather have a real man."

"Bella, you just sustained a head injury. Now isn't the time for games."

Her expression darkened, catching me off guard. "A game. Is that all I am to you?"

I rolled my eyes, never expecting a conversation with Bella to veer into this territory. "Can we please discuss this later?" I asked calmly. Moving forward with it was just a train wreck waiting to explode in front of Seattle's elite, though I'm sure Victoria would enjoy the carnage immensely.

"I think I deserve an answer." Bella's short, clipped tone and angry glare completely floored me.

"Bella…" I began, planning to reason with her, but she cut me off.

"You unbelievable bastard."

Where the hell had this come from? She was starting to sound like Esme, for fuck's sake. Gritting my teeth, I hissed, "What were you expecting, Bella? White picket fences and red roses? We're just _fucking_!" As soon as the whispered words left my mouth, I knew I'd made a mistake.

Her jaw clenched, eyes narrowing. "Not really, now are we, Carlisle? Were you just going to string me along indefinitely, always finding some lame excuse for us not to be together?" Bella's voice had gotten increasingly louder as she spoke, so I gestured for her to hold it down…which, of course, was met with even more hostility. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do!"

To my absolute horror, Edward chose that moment to lumber in, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of his wife. "What happened?" He then looked at me. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing, Edward," I lied. "Bella fell and hit her head. I'm trying to help her."

He crossed the room swiftly, reaching for her. His comforting gesture was summarily rejected, though, as she pushed his arms away. "Just take me home," she snarled, sliding off the desk. As soon as she stood up, her legs buckled, startling all three of us. Edward caught her her easily, holding her steady, but she fought him. "Let me go!" The ice pack slipped from her hand as she tried to push away, spilling its contents all over the carpeting. "FUCK!" Bella yelled, finally freeing herself, though she still teetered unsteadily.

"Jesus, Bella, what the hell is going on?" Edward asked.

"Take. Me. Home," she spat, glaring at him.

I rubbed my hand over my face, wishing I could just wash away the last five minutes. How had this playful affair taken on such a vicious edge? And so quickly? She'd seemed like such a calm, carefree person. I'd never expected this kind of an attitude; if I had, I'd never have ventured down this path in the first place. I'd been involved with way too many women whose expectations had gone far beyond the realistic limitations of infidelity. I'd thought Bella was different – I'd thought she understood. When the fuck would I learn?

"What in the world is going on back here?" Esme growled as she rushed into the room. "My guests can hear this!"

Edward looked contrite. "Sorry, Mom; we're having a bit of a problem. We'll keep it down."

"I just want to go home!" Bella yelled. "Is that too much to ask?"

"Not at all," Esme answered, her voice deadly calm. "By all means, Edward, please do take your wife home. As soon as possible, please." Her gaze swung towards me, and she pointed towards the heap of ice. "This needs to be cleaned up. I'll leave that in your capable hands." She then turned on her heels and left, closing the office door behind her.

"Edward," I said, repeating his name when he didn't acknowledge me right away. He looked dejected. It wasn't every day his mother chastised him; usually she was wiping his ass. "Do you have a flashlight at home?"

"What?"

"This is important, Edward – answer me."

"Um, I don't know…I don't think so."

I pulled out my pen light and handed it to him. "Take this. Give her two ibuprofen when you get home and have her rest. I want you to wake her every thirty minutes to check her pupils."

"Where's my purse?" Bella demanded loudly, glancing around the room. "Who the fuck stole my purse?" I hadn't seen her carrying one, but I knew she'd had her phone at one point.

Edward moved around to the other side of Esme's desk and opened one of the drawers. "It's still here, Bella." She snatched it from him as soon as he pulled it out.

"Edward, I need you to listen carefully," I insisted. "Bella hit her head pretty hard. You need to be on the lookout for concussion symptoms."

"I'm fine," she snarled at me, but I ignored her.

"Something about her pupils?" Edward asked.

"Yes, if one of them is larger than the other and doesn't react to the beam of light, that's not good. Also, watch for slurred speech, nausea, vomiting, convulsions or seizures, if her headache doesn't go away, or if you can't wake her…all of these are warning signs. If she presents with any of them in the next few days, don't wait; get her to University Hospital ER immediately, and then call us." He nodded, but I could tell he was distracted. "She can have an ibuprofen every four to six hours as needed, and use an ice pack on her head for ten to twenty minutes at a time every few hours to reduce the swelling."

"Fuck you two; I'm leaving!" Bella scooped her shoes off the sofa and started making her way towards the door. Shooting me a worried look, Edward followed, holding up his arms whenever she swayed, but not touching her otherwise. Poor bastard. He was probably going to have his hands full until she felt better.

I closed my eyes as they left, wondering yet again what the hell had happened here tonight. I'd been so fucking excited to find someone to play around with – someone beautiful and sexy…someone uncomplicated. Before Bella, it had actually been almost a year since I'd fucked around with the same woman more than once. Finding ladies who understood the no-strings-attached rule and didn't travel in the same circles as Esme and Victoria was difficult. I'd started to look forward to out-of-town medical conferences, despite the monotony of the required meetings. Sometimes it was the only chance I had to get laid.

Shaking my head, I kneeled beside the rapidly melting ice. The knot in my stomach had grown into a giant fucking boulder with sharp edges, but I was already resigned. Unless I divorced Esme and left Seattle tomorrow, I would have to figure out how to handle being around Bella. Like it or not, she was family.

One by one, I picked the ice balls off the floor and placed them back in the towel. My movements were mechanical. I thought I'd shut my brain off too, eager to numb the disappointment, but I soon realized that wasn't the case. Somewhere in the back of my mind, Dr. Cullen was still very hard at work analyzing every minute detail of this whole experience. And his definitive conclusion, reached mere minutes after being distanced from all the emotional upheaval, was shocking. My keen sense of medical awareness had rarely failed me; having that gut instinct is what made me such an outstanding trauma surgeon. This time, however, it had.

"God damn it, Carlisle," I whispered bitterly to myself. "When things go wrong, stop thinking with your cock."

Digging out my phone, I pulled up my list of contacts and clicked on Edward's name. His phone rang for quite some time before he picked up.

"Yeah?"

"After thinking about it, Bella's equilibrium issues are concerning me, Edward," I told him. "I recommend you take her straight to University Hospital. I can call ahead and make sure they're on standby; she'll need an MRI."

"Okay, but I'm not sure she'll be too happy." He sounded wary. Very wary. Then again, he was escorting a very angry injured woman wielding heels and a heavy clutch who wasn't exactly in her right mind at the moment. Prudence was definitely in order.

"You'll have to grin and bear it; she could be hemorrhaging. I'll get there as soon as I can."

"All right. Thanks, Carlisle."

"You bet."

My hands were shaking as I closed the connection and took a deep breath, acutely aware of how badly this could have turned out had my ingrained training not kicked in. Increased agitation – any unusual behavior, really – is a major symptom of brain trauma. Bella would probably be just fine, but there's always that nasty little bitch called Worst Case Scenario looming like a dark spectre. I sure as hell wasn't going to ignore her, especially now.

Tapping my phone back on, I dialed the hospital. A good friend of mine from med school was their chief of surgery; Bella would be in very capable hands if he was on duty. Just as I was finishing the call, Esme reappeared, storming into the office and then coming to a dead halt as she eyed the mostly melted mess on her floor.

"Oh, honestly, Carlisle! Can't you even understand simple instructions?"

I snorted soundlessly. Typical. "Bella's on her way to the ER to be checked for intracranial hemorrhaging, thanks for asking," I replied.

A flicker of regret crossed Esme's face before her expression hardened again. "I'm sure she's perfectly fine."

"I certainly hope so. Visions de Gaze's going to have to foot the bill either way."

Esme looked outraged. "We have insurance."

"I hope you're paid up," I taunted, knowing that would probably only cover a portion of the expenses. The gallery would have to pay for the rest out of pocket – that much I would see to personally. God knows those kids couldn't afford the medical bills themselves. "I'm going to head over there," I finished, scooping up the rest of the ice and placing it in the towel.

"You're leaving?" she asked. "I've got a showing going on!"

I glared at her. "And I've got a patient to look after. You know, Esme, I keep hoping you'll get over the whole self-importance thing, but I guess that's just wishful thinking."

"You bastard," she hissed.

Smiling, I got back up and carried the towel-full of ice across the room, shoving it into her hands. "Count on it."

I let my warning hang in the air as I brushed past her and left the room, choosing to leave via the gallery's back entrance. I'd had enough drama for one night; dealing with a polite round of good nights was simply out of the question. I'd rather fade into the darkness and let the snob squad pretend I'd never been there at all. It was sad, really, the whole of my existence, I realized while I handed over my valet ticket and waited for my car to be brought around. Unhappily married, happily fucking around but unfulfilled…forever caught in a loop of dissatisfaction. It seemed my lot in life. And tonight, despite my utter weariness, both physical and emotional, I would check on Bella, do my best to reassure Edward, and then go home, where I would most likely be coaxed into fucking my wife while dreaming of long legs and warm brown eyes.

Fucking pathetic.

(~ * ~ * ~)

**FIC REC!**

Attention all fans of StormDragonfly's _One Weekend_ – and **especially** those who have never read it – she has posted a lemony outtake and extended ending to this wonderful, wonderful story! This was one of the first pieces I read when I came into to this fandom, and it remains a favorite. It is Carlisle/Bella, rated M, and well worth taking the time to read (or reread). And did I mention the oh-so-hot outtake she added recently? Go on…you know you want to!

Musical Note: The music Edward played at the reception was taken from Danny Wright's amazing Black And White II CD. I bought it way back in 1989, and I'm surprised I haven't completely worn it out over the decades…


	6. As Good As It Gets

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things _Twilight_-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warning: AH/AU.**

**Many thanks to my wonderful betae, Carol and einfach_mich, for all their help. Any mistakes in the final draft are entirely my own.**

(~ * ~ * ~)

Warm, appreciative gazes from men and women alike met me as I walked down the corridors at University Hospital. I recognized some of the faces – occupational hazard, I guess, after practicing medicine in the same area for as long as I have. Others were strangers to me, though there were a few I wouldn't have minded getting to know better. It was late, well past visiting hours, but my credentials were more than enough to grant me access to any of the area hospitals, twenty-four/seven.

Rounding the corner, I slowed my stride as I came up on room 212. Using a practiced touch, I soundlessly cracked the door open and peered inside. The lights were dimmed, but they were bright enough for me to see that Bella was sleeping peacefully. The tranquil scene was a far cry from the one three nights ago, when she'd had to be partially sedated in the emergency room after hitting one of the nurses who'd been trying to calm her down. I hadn't had the chance to actually speak with her since that fateful night. Every time I'd dropped by, she'd been asleep, but instead of disappointment, I'd only felt immense relief. The more she rested, the more quickly her body would heal.

Moving slowly, I stepped inside and closed the door, making my way to where her chart was hung. I skimmed through the notes, mentally cataloguing all the positive improvements, both emotionally and physiologically. Bella was still experiencing brief periods of disorientation, but her equilibrium was entirely back to normal, and it looked like the swelling in her brain was diminishing rapidly as well. I had to chuckle at one of the personal notations left by Eleazar: 'She-devil gone. Very charming young lady.'

Charming, indeed. My gaze wandered off the pages in front of me to the sweet face of sleeping beauty. She was so young…young and achingly divine in almost every conceivable way. She'd looked stunning at the gallery the other night, with her barely-there dress and smoky make-up, yet she didn't need any of that to make someone's heart lurch. All she needed to do was smile, and that heartfelt charisma of hers shone like a beacon in her eyes.

As soon as I realized what I was doing, my grin faded. Seriously, who the fuck was I kidding? My optimistic days were long gone, marred by endless scars and disappointments. It was far better to enjoy the moment when and where I could than to allow any dangerous emotional entanglements to grow. Especially under these circumstances.

A quiet tapping caught my attention, and I craned my neck around to see what it was. I smiled as I caught sight of Eleazar, shaking my head at the fact that he too had managed to get the door open without a sound. He motioned for me to follow him, and I did after setting Bella's chart back in its holder and sparing one last glance at her peaceful face. God, she was beautiful.

"Carlisle," Eleazar greeted, shaking my hand once the door had been safely closed behind us. "It's good to see you again."

"Likewise," I said. "Thanks for taking the lead on this case." He hadn't been on duty when Bella had been admitted, so I hadn't had the chance to confer with him at all since this whole mess began.

He grinned at me. "Any family of yours is my family too."

"Am I keeping you from checking on her?" I stepped aside, not wanting to interfere with his work.

"No, no – I came to find you. Word travels fast around this place, you know. When I heard someone talking about the sexy hotshot from Cherry Hill who'd just arrived, I figured it had to be you."

"Riiight," I drawled, rolling my eyes.

"Seriously," he continued, his grin widening, "you're a long way from your upscale campus. You walk into the boondocks of Seattle medical wearing these fine Italian clothes, and you're bound to draw some attention. I'm surprised you didn't have to wade through a sea of wagging tongues."

I smirked. "Well, there was that, yes…"

"Oh, you dog," Eleazar laughed, slapping my shoulder. "Some things never change. Come on, let's get some coffee."

We chatted easily as he led me through the corridors. Expecting a trip down to the cafeteria, I was surprised when we came to a stop in front of his office. I watched as he unlocked the door – with a real key. "When are you guys going to join the real world?" I teased, pointing toward the locking mechanism.

"Ahhh," he replied, waving his hand in mock disgust. "We'll never have the same funding your center does. I'm lucky I have a lock, period."

I'd intended to continue that line of thought, wanting nothing more than to harass my friend further, but I stopped short when I saw the size of his coffee maker. "Holy fuck. How many cups is that?"

Eleazar grinned proudly. "A hundred. It's bigger than the ones they have downstairs." He grabbed two clean mugs off the counter.

"Decaf, I hope?"

"Bite your tongue," he replied.

I held up my hand. "I'll pass, then. I've already pulled a double shift; I'd rather not be awake for another eight hours."

"Suit yourself."

I watched as he poured himself a generous cup and moved to his desk, gesturing for me to take a seat. As I sank down into the cushions, I suddenly felt the guilt I'd been repressing wash over me. I knew I'd done the right thing, having Edward bring Bella here, but my slow diagnostic ability that night had haunted me ever since. When I glanced back up at Eleazar, I found him studying me carefully.

"I fucked up," I admitted, fidgeting with my tie. I may be a womanizing bastard, but I took my duties as a physician very seriously, and that included owning up to my mistakes. "I didn't catch all of Bella's symptoms right away."

"It was a very small bleed, Carlisle."

"What if it hadn't been? She could have had a stroke. Or worse."

He sat back in his chair. "A few days of rest under observation, a little Mannitol drip, some Methylprednisolone, and she's fine. The Neurology consult lasted a whole five minutes before we determined standard treatment was all that was needed."

Grinning mirthlessly, I said, "You're defending me."

Eleazar shot me a pointed look. "Someone has to. There's only one thing you're better at than practicing medicine, and that's beating yourself up."

"There's no excuse for missing something so obvious, El."

"So you might have been a little distracted. You're still human, you know."

I froze, trying like hell not to let the shock I was feeling show on my face. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "I know you far too well, my friend. I did mention word gets around this place, right? You've been in every single night to see her."

"I was concerned," I defended. "I did screw up, you know."

"You can't fool me," Eleazar said, still chuckling, "You've spent more time here with her than your step-son has."

"Okay, fine," I began, reverting to the cavalier attitude he was undoubtedly expecting. "She's gorgeous and has a fuckable body I'd love to get my hands on."

He quirked his brows. "You mean you haven't already?"

_Jesus Christ_. Closing my eyes in defeat, I rubbed at my forehead. "Fuck…"

I heard more quiet laughter before Eleazar said, "We've been friends for nearly thirty years, Carlisle. I know you."

Opening my eyes again, I glanced around the room, avoiding his gaze. "Yeah, well, not everyone is as lucky as you in the love department. You managed to find the one woman out of seven _billion_ people who was worthy of hanging onto. The rest of us have to make do with what we can find." Nobody was more aware of my marital woes than Eleazar. He'd stood by me through thick and thin, offering his shoulder – and his guest room – whenever things had gotten rough. I owed him a world of debt for everything. When I finally looked back at him, the sadness I saw in his expression made me feel even more pathetic.

He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "There are plenty of worthy women out there, Carlisle. Beautiful women whose capacity for love and devotion would make any man's life complete in every way. You never gave yourself the chance to find any of them."

"So, you're saying I've just been making bad choices my whole life?" Big fucking surprise there.

He shook his head. "Honestly? I don't think you were the one making the choices. You allowed them to be made for you."

I blinked at him, thoroughly confused. "How do you figure that?"

Eleazar leaned forward, setting his mug down. "Who introduced you to Miranda?"

Just hearing my ex-wife's name made my gut start to churn, but I forced back the anger as I considered his question. "It was my mother, I think. At one of her fancy parties."

"And would you have asked her out at all if your mother hadn't pressed the issue? Repeatedly?"

I cocked my head as I thought. "I don't know. She seemed…"

"Snobby?" he offered, hitting that nail right on the head.

"She's a senator's daughter," I told him. "Of course she's snobby."

"And do you think your mother was actually contemplating what a good romantic match you were?"

I laughed, knowing exactly where this was going. Eleazar was right; he knew me – and my family – far too well. "My mother never had anyone's interests but her own in mind."

"Okay then," he said, grinning. "What about Esme? How did you meet her?"

The question sobered me as I finally understood what he was trying to get across. After a moment's hesitation, I answered quietly, "My mother…"

The air around us stilled as we both absorbed the conversation we'd just had. I felt a little sick to my stomach, but I suppose the truth doesn't always smell like roses. Finally, my gaze drifted back to his. "I made my own choices, El," I insisted weakly.

The look in his eyes told me exactly how much he believed me. "Elizabeth Cullen was a very formidable woman, both in her home and in the social spheres of Seattle," he said. "If I'd been her son, I wouldn't have wanted to disappoint her, either."

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling drained and strangely hollow. I mulled over his words, unable to stop the images…my whole life flashing forward from around the time my father had passed away when I was a teenager. All the disappointments, all the arguments, all the duties and expectations associated with being the esteemed Marcus and Elizabeth Cullen's son. Until I'd met Eleazar in med school and watched his life unfold, I'd had no concept that what I'd lived through wasn't how every other family on the planet functioned. I'd always considered him extremely fucking lucky. I guess maybe I was just extremely fucking _unlucky_.

"Why haven't you ever pointed this out before?"

Eleazar gazed intently at me. "I've tried. Many times," he replied. "It's nice to see you're finally listening." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Just keep your heart open, Carlisle. She's out there somewhere. You'll find her."

I couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped me. Of all the absurd ideas, thinking I could possibly find this elusive thing called happiness. "No," I told him as I got up and walked to where his credentials hung in fancy frames, "this is about as good as it gets." My gaze wandered aimlessly over all the certificates while I fought back the hopelessness that numbed my heart. "Cheating bastards like me don't get a shot at redemption. Not after fucking up this much."

In my peripheral vision, I saw him stand as well and walk around, perching himself on the corner of his desk. The silence that hung between us was deafening. When I couldn't stand it any longer, I finally turned to face him.

"You're a better man than you think you are," he told me firmly.

I chuckled, shaking my head. "You're a better friend than I deserve." I offered him my hand, which he accepted readily, but when our handshake finished, he didn't let go.

"Be careful, Carlisle," he warned, his grip tightening. "You know I would never judge you, but this situation with Bella…"

I grimaced. "A little stickier than usual, I know."

Eleazar paused before finally releasing my hand. "My spare room is always open, as you know, but I'm afraid I don't have a bomb shelter."

That's probably what I would need, too. Were Esme to file for divorce, she would get nothing from me; our pre-nup guaranteed that. But, both she and Victoria were very well connected throughout the city, including having distant ties with my ex-wife, who'd never been able to prove with certainty that I'd been cheating on her. Having my relationship with Bella revealed would make way for the perfect shit storm, the ripples of which would likely rock Seattle's social circles for an indeterminate amount of time, making my personal and professional life a living hell.

Bella wouldn't be unaffected, either, though I suspected she would be spared a great deal of the proverbial bloodbath given that she wasn't a socialite. Edward would be beyond pissed, of course – at both of us, though he would be a minor concern. I'm really not sure what would become of their marriage, but Bella's a survivor. I wouldn't put it past her to pack up all her things, rent a car, and drive through Seattle flipping everyone off on her way out of town to start a new life.

Realizing how grim my train of thought had become, I snapped myself out of it. For good or ill, I was fully invested in this affair, and I had no intentions of backing away unless Bella suddenly changed her mind. Refocusing on Eleazar, I shot him my usual cocky grin as I stepped towards the door. "If things blow up, I'll just send you a postcard. How's that?"

He laughed. "You do whatever you need to, my friend. Take care of yourself."

"You, too," I replied. "Give my love to Carmen."

"I will."

After exiting his office, I retraced my steps back to Bella's room, pausing briefly outside. I knew from experience that hospital gossip could be pretty disparaging, but I didn't work here, and in truth I was family. Add to that the fact that I was recognized as an area physician, and I didn't think I had much to worry about. Still, I unobtrusively glanced around, curious to note how many people would see me entering. Much to my relief, there wasn't a soul in this particular corridor, and the Nurses' Station was far enough away for me not to attract attention. Grasping the door handle, I let myself in once more.

Bella was asleep yet, her breathing slow and even. Gazing over her form, I noticed the Mannitol drip was still attached to her left arm. Despite Eleazar downplaying the severity of her injury, it was obvious they weren't taking any chances. I wouldn't, either.

Walking around the foot of the bed, I saw that she'd managed to loosen her bed sheets. They were lying in haphazard folds, threatening to expose those beautiful legs and feet I knew were hidden in their depths. That would not do at all. Grinning, I carefully gathered the material and straightened it, tucking the excess back under the mattress. Bella didn't even stir. At this point, she was probably used to the nurses coming in and going about their business whether she was awake or not.

I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her leg through the covers, to stroke her gently, offering unspoken support. I wanted her to know how awful I felt over what had happened, how I wished I could go back and erase the harsh words I'd flung at her when, in hindsight, she'd so obviously been in trauma-induced distress. I wanted her to know how desirable she was to me, and how I truly hoped we could still connect and enjoy each other. Yet, even as I thought these things, I realized that the farther we progressed into this affair, the harder it would be to let her go in the end. There was something about her, some ineffable quality that tugged at me despite the disparity in our ages. It was puzzling and breathtaking all at once. She could never know of my burgeoning feelings, of course. Because in the end, all we were supposed to be doing was fucking. No strings attached. It was the same old routine for me; I would just have to suck up and deal with it.

Right now, though, I could allow myself a moment of indulgence. I gazed at her for a long while, adoring every detail of her beautiful face in a way I never could otherwise. Then I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead, breathing, "Feel better, my love," as quietly as possible before turning to leave.

(~ * ~ * ~)

**A/N: I know this was a long time coming. This particular story will be getting a lot more attention from me now that I've found someone willing to keep her foot firmly planted in my arse (_thank you_, einfach_mich). I sense much C/B naughtiness happening in the near future…**


	7. The Unbearable Pointlessness of Being

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things _Twilight_-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**A/N: Okay, so I'm going to be evil and tease you a bit longer! I really did think I'd be posting a much longer chapter, but when I got to the point at which this one ends, it seemed like a great place to pause. You all will no doubt be annoyed, but at least you'll have a pretty good idea what's coming next. ;-)**

**Warning: AH/AU.**

**Many thanks to my wonderful betae, Carol and einfach_mich, for all their help. Any mistakes in the final draft are entirely my own.**

(~ * ~ * ~)

My taste buds came alive, screaming in ecstasy as I sank my teeth into the juicy hamburger in my hands. I closed my eyes at the sensual onslaught. This was pub grub at its artery-clogging finest, and something I'd missed terribly while holed up in our apartment the past few weeks. Because really, if that's what they call "sufficient recovery time for head trauma," just send me straight the fuck to hell, please. I promise not to stop on GO or collect my $200.

In a rather graceless move, I plopped the burger down when my phone chimed, not even stopping to wipe my hands on a napkin. My anticipation evaporated pretty quickly when I saw the text was from Edward, though. Damn it. I'd been tapping on Carlisle's electronic shoulder almost as long as I'd been out of the hospital, with not a single response back from him. I'd spoken with him briefly about a week ago – on Edward's phone after he'd handed it to me. Apparently that had been just the obligatory and very public father-in-law's show of concern. I, on the other hand, was more than ready for the very _private_ conversation that really needed to be had between us. I'd so totally fucked up that night at the gallery. It didn't matter that I'd been bleeding in my head; as I saw it, that was no excuse for some of the things I'd said. Sighing, I set the phone down long enough to clean my hands, and then fired off a quick reply to Edward. With that text out of the way, I absently toggled through my contacts until I came to the alias I used for Carlisle. After this much silence, it almost seemed futile, but I had to try. My thumbs danced lightly across the touch pad, sending yet another message off into the wild wireless yonder.

_**We need to talk. Please?**_

Approaching footsteps prompted me to close out the screen and shove the device back into my pocket. I grabbed for my pickle spear as Alice took a seat across from me.

"For a dive bar, the bathrooms aren't that bad."

I arched my brow. "You checked them both out?"

She tossed me _the look_ – the one patented way back in 1995 when we were both finally old enough to understand what '**W**hiskey **T**ango **F**oxtrot' meant. "Of course. If you're gonna be working here, that means I'll be here a lot, too. I needed to know if I'd have to bring my own sanitizer."

"You are so fucking anal," I laughed. "How the hell have we stayed friends all these years?"

Alice grinned back. "It's a complete mystery."

"Seriously, look at us. I wear football jerseys and jeans; you wear Dolce and Cabanna."

"Gabbana," she corrected, rolling her eyes.

I snorted. "What the fuck ever. And I don't have the job just yet."

"Oh, you'll get it."

"You think?" I stuffed a few fries into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Edward's teaching assistantship contract at UW afforded him a meager salary at best; we were certainly going to need all the income we could get.

Suddenly, Alice sat up straighter, her eyes widening a little as one of the guys from behind the bar approached our table. I had to fight to keep a straight face when her lips curled into a smile. Oh, this one was so not her style, and yet there she was, practically drooling all over her half-eaten lunch.

"Isabella?" he asked, looking at me, though his gaze kept straying in Alice's direction.

"Bella," I told him, holding out my hand, which he shook genially.

"Hey, Bella. I'm Jasper Whitlock, one of the managers here. All your references gave you glowin' reviews," he drawled. "Your demonstration was more than a little impressive, and your Professional Server Certification is also in order, so I don't see why we all can't make it official. Welcome to the Blue Moon Tavern."

"Awesome!" Alice's enthusiastic response caught us both off-guard, but it was the perfect excuse for Jasper to take a nice long look at my friend. "I mean, congratulations…"

I laughed quietly. She wasn't paying me the tiniest bit of attention while she spoke. "Um, Jasper, this is Mary Alice Brandon," I introduced, purposely using Alice's given name, which she hated with a passion. Predictably, the stiletto end of her heels found my foot with unerring accuracy underneath the table.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Mary Alice Brandon," he said all gentleman-like, shaking her hand.

"Please, call me Alice."

I hid my shit-eating grin behind my hand, pretending to cough. Then I ate a few more fries. Then I took a sip of my Coke, my gaze flitting back and forth between them. And still, they were lost in their own little world, oblivious to my presence. Finally, I cleared my throat and said, "So, when do I start?"

Jolted from his Alice-trance, Jasper turned back to me, looking appropriately sheepish. "Well, the bartender you'll be replacin'…his last shift is next weekend, so I'm figurin' we should probably start your trainin' come Monday so you're ready to roll for his send-off."

"What time?" I asked.

"Let's have you come in around one on Monday afternoon. We'll get your paperwork in order and show you around before we open at two. Shift'll end at ten, and as you can see," he pointed to his clothing, "casual attire works just fine."

I nodded. "Sounds good."

He glanced back at Alice, grinning. "Will you be visiting our fine establishment again soon, Miss Brandon?"

It was so fucking hard for me to keep a straight face. I'd never in all our years as friends seen her eyes twinkle like that before.

"Most definitely," Alice promised, much to his obvious delight.

"Hey, Jasper!" one of the bartenders called, holding up a phone receiver.

Looking slightly annoyed at the interruption, he acknowledged the employee with a quick wave. "Ladies, I'm afraid duty calls. I'll see you Monday, Bella," he told me before tossing Alice a playful smile and a nod. "Miss Brandon."

Alice sighed happily as she watched him leave. As soon as he was out of earshot, I let go of my laughter. That, of course, just earned me another kick in the foot.

"Honestly, Alice. Not that you wouldn't have noticed or anything," I began, dropping my voice down to a conspiratorial whisper, "but he's wearing _cowboy_ _boots_." Which were the antithesis of everything my haute couture-worshipping friend stood for. Or so I thought.

"Oh, settle," she shushed me. "Maybe I'm ready for an adventure. Or two. Or three."

I smirked. "Do I hear the kitty purring in anticipation?"

"Hey, my vag gets plenty of exercise, thank you," she defended, leveling a perfectly manicured finger at me before snatching an onion ring off her plate.

"Mmmhmm," I goaded, knowing she was being honest, but not willing to let her off the hook just yet; I was having too much fun. In hindsight, though, taking a big swig of my Coke right then probably wasn't the smartest move, knowing my friend's penchant for flinging well-aimed curve balls during our little repartees.

"So," Alice said, her expression turning devious, "who's Carrie?"

I couldn't help it – I choked. Big time. And while I fought for air, trying in vain to mop up the mess I'd made, Alice just smiled and continued to eat like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Damn her. I should have known better than to risk sending that text while in Her Royal Nosiness's company. She fucking notices everything.

Once I'd caught my breath and counted to, like, fifty, saying a few silent prayers to random gods, I simply told her, "She's one of my friends from New York." Hell, I'd been lying through my teeth pretty successfully for some time now; maybe my luck was still intact.

Alice stopped chewing, the full weight of her gaze bearing down on me. "Bullshit. Try again."

Okay, maybe not. I closed my eyes, knowing it was futile to try keeping secrets from her, but self-preservation was tugging pretty fucking hard at my gut. "My cousin from Ohio?"

She snorted loudly. "Lame. Try again."

Swallowing hard, I just looked at her, pleading silently. Her expression softened a little, but the intensity of her stare made it very clear that she was not giving up on this. "If I asked you nicely, would you just let it go? Please?"

A myriad of emotions crossed Alice's face as I watched her. It started with sympathy at the tone of my voice. Even I had to admit I'd sounded pretty pathetic, my own sense of frustration and sadness coloring my words pretty heavily. The sympathy I saw quickly gave way to a curious glint in her eye. I'd never deliberately withheld anything from my best friend of so many years. We were like sisters; we shared everything. If I wanted to keep a secret from her, she knew it had to be fucking good. And, as I knew it would, curiosity made the wheels start turning in that amazingly perceptive brain of hers. Amusement, surprise…astonishment…I could pretty much follow her train of thought right up to the moment the dazzling, triumphant fireworks display went off over her head.

The corners of her mouth very slowly tugged into a sly grin. "You're fucking someone," Alice stated, the conviction in her voice making my stomach clench. "Someone other than…" she snapped her fingers a few times, "what's his name again?"

"Edward," I said, glowering. She'd made it quite clear what she thought of my other half, and while I pretty much agreed with her sentiments, the repeated mockery was getting a bit old.

She inhaled deeply, still smiling, but remained silent. I knew she was daring me to deny it, but how the fuck could I? Stalling, I picked up my burger and took a bite. Funny how it now tasted bland and unappealing.

"Come on, Bella, spill. You can't hide it from me."

I really couldn't. Now that I'd as good as confessed, she'd be poking and prodding until the truth came out anyway. "Look, we fooled around a few times, but now…" I trailed off, glancing self-consciously around the pub while I struggled to find the right words. "Now it's just all weird and shit…"

Alice's demeanor changed immediately. "He's not stalking you or anything, is he?"

"No, no," I assured her, "it's not like that. I said some things I shouldn't have." I absently chewed at my lower lip. Just thinking about Carlisle made me ache in ways I never thought I would at this point in my life. Seriously, shit like this only happened in movies, right? "I think it could have been really good between us. But I screwed up."

When I looked back up, Alice was gazing at me with this incredulous expression. "You actually care about this guy."

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," she insisted quietly.

At that point, I stopped thinking altogether, my favorite defense mechanism kicking in. Instead of pondering what ifs and how utterly fucking pitiful my own situation was, I just continued eating my lunch in silence, staring blankly at my plate. Fortunately, Alice seemed to recognize my need for emotional space, and left me alone. For a while, anyway.

As we were finishing up, though, she ventured, "So, are you going to tell me who it was?"

"Does it really matter?"

She tilted her head and grinned. "It does to me. If I ever see him, I'd at least like the chance to tell him what an idiot he is for letting you go."

I laughed sadly. "He's married, Alice." _And I am, too._

"Mmmm," she hummed, cringing. "Complicated."

"Yeah." Fucking understatement of the century.

Alice reached across the table and squeezed my hand. "One of these days soon, we'll have a girl's night at my place. Then you can tell me all about it, and we'll both cry over a few bottles of Chilean cabernet, okay?"

I gaped at her. She was giving up so soon? Normally, she would have grilled me relentlessly until I'd told her everything. God, I must really look pathetic. In any case, I was grateful, since I really did not feel like dwelling on this particular subject any longer.

"Oh, and lunch is on me," Alice continued suddenly, her gaze refocusing across the room while she dug out her wallet.

Curious, I turned towards the bar, where I saw Jasper dutifully cleaning up after another patron. Bingo! Laughing under my breath, I watched as she got up and hurried across the room without actually _looking_ like she was hurrying. Seeing my friend so eager and happy made me feel much, much better. Alice had always been there for me, and I knew she always would be. I'd tell her everything eventually; right now, though, I just wanted a little more time to get my shit together.

Grabbing my backpack, I tossed a generous tip onto the table, and then headed for the bar. Alice was already engaged in a quiet but animated conversation with my future boss. "Hey Ally, I'm headed out," I told her.

"Oh," she said, looking back and forth between me and her newest obsession. "Well…"

I grinned. "It's okay. I think I can handle walking home." In truth, the pub's strategic location was one of the reasons I'd applied in the first place. We had a car now thanks to Edward's mother – an obnoxious mint green Honda Civic – and I would most likely be able to use it for work, but in the event that I would need to hoof it for whatever reason, the six-block distance was very doable.

Alice gave me a huge smile and pulled me into a quick hug. "Take care of you," she whispered.

"Always." I backed towards the door, flashing her the hand symbol for 'call me' while winking.

"Later, Bella," Jasper said.

I waved. "See you Monday."

When I stepped out into the early afternoon sun, it was like being renewed. For mid-September, the weather in Seattle was unseasonably warm. Even the breeze coming in off Lake Union lacked its distinctive cool bite. Hoisting my backpack over my shoulders and donning sunglasses, I turned east and did my best to blend in with all the weekend shoppers.

I'd only walked about a block when my phone went off. I cackled softly to myself as I dug it out of my jeans pocket, fully expecting the call to be Alice with news about tonight's hot date. Instead, I felt my heart leap up into my throat as I eyed the caller ID.

Carlisle.

I hesitated only a moment before tapping the call button. "Carlisle? Why didn't you––"

"Bella, where are you?" he cut me off.

Blinking at his abruptness, I answered, "On my way home."

I heard a quiet exhalation on the other end. Impatient amusement. "Where are you?" he repeated. "Exactly?"

Stopping mid-stride, I shook my head. I'd totally forgotten how ballsy he could be. Okay, fine. "Forty-fifth and Roosevelt. Look, can we please––"

Click.

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I stared at it in disbelief. "He hung up on me," I murmured to myself. "He fucking hung up on me!" I punched the end call button and shoved it back into my pocket, gritting my teeth as I waited to cross the intersection. Fuck him! I didn't care how good he was in bed; after groveling via text messages for two fucking weeks with no response back, I thought I deserved a little better than being hung up on. Seething, I marched purposefully across Roosevelt Way when the WALK signal lit up, keeping my gaze downward. At this rate, I'd be home in record time, and that suited me just fine. Curling up in front of the TV with a few too many beers and some junk food sounded pretty damn good right about now.

I didn't immediately register the sound. It seemed to blend in with the rest of the heavy traffic, more or less. But, then its timbre grew more distinctive, more…predatory, rising above everything else. It demanded attention. It commanded respect. It _growled_. And for some inexplicable reason, I knew with absolute certainty that it was coming for me. Slowing my pace, I looked up just as a flash of red and gold moved in the distance, crawling steadily in my direction.

No. Fucking. Way.

The deep, powerful hum of the 4.3 liter V-8 engine made the hair on my neck stand straight on end, even as I fought to believe what I was seeing. I just stood there, rooted in place, gaping, until Carlisle finally eased the sleek Ferrari convertible up to the curb beside me. A fucking F430 Spider, no less. The vision in front of me was like the culmination of all my girly wet dreams, both biological and mechanical, which, of course, melted away my previous indignation in about two seconds flat. Had I been a guy, I'd have had a hard-on the size of Florida in my pants.

Shifting the car into first gear, Carlisle turned to look at me, his expression smug. "Hey, little girl," he purred, pulling down his Ray-Ban sunglasses just enough to tease me with a hint of those beautiful bluish-green eyes. "Want some candy?"

(~ * ~ * ~)


	8. Heat Wave

**Disclaimer****: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things **_**Twilight**_**-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Disclaimer #2: All non-Twilight characters in this story are entirely fictional. I pulled the names, including the last names of certain recognizable characters, out of my head; any resemblance to real people, living or deceased, is entirely coincidental.**

**A/N: Apologies. Times ten. My life has been a shit sandwich. I hope the length of this chapter makes up for the last two years of silence just a little bit.**

**Warning: AH/AU.**

**Acknowledgments: A lot of people helped me with this particular chapter, and I am grateful to each and every one of them: to Carol, einfach_mich, BookwormBaby2580, and LawrenceLee93 for their insightful comments, suggestions, and inspiration; to pugridesshotgun for the preread and much-needed hand holding, and to aprisea for graciously helping me with my awful Spanish. You guys are awesome! Any mistakes in the final draft are mine alone.**

(~ * ~ * ~)

"Hey, little girl," I teased, doing my best to look irresistible. "Want some candy?" I couldn't see her eyes through the dark sunglasses, but I was pretty sure she was just as pissed at me as she was stunned by my temporary set of wheels.

"Fuck…" she whispered, scanning the length of the convertible.

I grinned, watching. Bella looked remarkably sexy in her Seahawks jersey and hip-huggers. So young. So carefree. My cock twitched as I studied those kissable lips. The perky little breasts she kept well hidden in that roomy top weren't so bad either, even if my imagination had to fill in most of the blanks. Small, large, somewhere in between – it didn't matter to me. I loved to worship them all.

Turning back to me, she cocked her head, the corner of her mouth quirking. "So. Is this _my_ housewarming gift?"

Chuckling, I leaned back in my seat. "Nice try. It's just a rental."

"I didn't realize Avis kept these babies in stock."

"They probably don't. I lease from the private sector," I replied, a quiver of excitement shooting straight to my groin when she opened the passenger door and climbed in, plopping her backpack on the floor.

She glanced over at me, sliding her own sunglasses down just enough to show me those beautiful brown eyes. They were filled with mischief. "Naturally."

We gazed quietly at each other for some time, the pause charged with anticipation as electrifying as a live wire. I could tell she was gauging me, my intentions. Right here, right now, the possibilities were limitless; I'd arranged everything very carefully should she be receptive. But, there was still a whole hell of a lot left to be said between us in the aftermath of that night at the gallery. And I'd been stupid enough to hide from her the past two weeks while she'd recovered, too, which only made today's outcome even more uncertain.

Finally, one of her eyebrows arched. "Tell me, can this thing move?" she asked.

My grin widened. Leaning closer to her, I whispered, "Fasten your seat belt."

She complied – somewhat quickly, though whether she was eager for the ride or something more titillating I couldn't be sure. I wasn't about to make any assumptions on the matter, either.

A wave of exhilaration came over me as I grabbed the gear shift. I spared a brief glance behind us to check for traffic before I revved the engine, popped the clutch, and then peeled away from the curb in a flurry of squealing tires, just barely squeaking through the yellow light at the corner of 45th and Roosevelt. Bella cackled at my rather juvenile actions. I couldn't help myself; I felt like a teenager all over again. And seriously, who wouldn't want to push the package with a car like this?

"Careful, Carlisle," she teased, running a hand through her billowing hair. "People might think you're over-compensating."

The hilarity of her suggestion forced a bark of laughter past my lips. As if I were lacking anything in that particular department.

We cruised steadily towards the freeway in companionable silence. This part of town was looking far more run down than I remembered. The buildings themselves seemed tired, as though they'd given up hope after many of the businesses contained within had gone belly-up during the recession. I felt a tiny bit sheepish, barging through the neighborhood in a shiny new Ferrari, even if I'd earned the right to bask in such luxury.

"I can't believe Edward's playing for a tea party right now," Bella spoke up. "A real fucking tea party."

I'd planned to bring up the fact that he would most likely be engaged for the rest of the afternoon, but she'd beat me to it. Now I just needed to figure out where she wanted this conversation – and this impromptu rendezvous – to lead.

"Oh, tea parties are Esme's specialty," I explained. "She loves fawning over Seattle's elite women – all in the hopes of securing gallery funding, of course."

She snorted. "And Edward gets sucked in right along with everyone else by virtue of being her son, the poor bastard."

"Why do you think I head for the tennis club on tea days?"

Bella turned to look at me. "Ahhh, is that where you are right now?"

"You betcha." I grinned, bracing myself. The interstate was dead ahead; which direction I turned would depend entirely on what happened next. "Where are _you_ right now?" I asked, forcing my voice to remain steady. Inside, I was a churning mass of nerves and self-disappointment. If I'd lost all chance to be with her, I had no one to blame but myself.

"Technically, I'm spending the rest of the day with Alice," Bella answered. I felt knots forming in my stomach, tightening to the point of being painful before she continued, "But, since Alice found her latest conquest during lunch, I guess I'm all by my lonesome."

I took a deep breath when the traffic light at 7th Avenue turned red, buying me a bit of time. It was now or never. "I know a place," I murmured quietly.

All kinds of tension sizzled between us as Bella sat silently beside me. It wasn't hard to discern that some of the vibes were negative. She had every right to be angry; I had no problem admitting that. I wasn't afraid to face that anger, either – dealing with pissed off women was my specialty. No, it was the thought of never being able to touch Bella again or hold her in my arms that instilled genuine fear in me and crumbled all my confidence. The fact that I was in this deep, emotionally, after spending so many years – so many decades – keeping my guard up only increased that fear tenfold. We hadn't even spent that much time together, and still I felt inexplicably drawn to her. Very few women had affected me this deeply. Unfortunately, those few had all succeeded in ripping me to shreds when I was most vulnerable. Part of me kept screaming, 'Why are you doing this all over again?' while the other part answered, 'Because you're a fucking fool, Carlisle. Always have been, always will be.'

I swallowed thickly as the cross traffic began to slow to a stop, the fingers of my left hand poised on the signal lever. Bella still hadn't spoken. She hadn't even looked at me. If this wasn't going to work, I would just hang a right here and double back to the east side, dropping her at their apartment complex. With any luck, she would simply get out, flip me off, and walk away, thus ending our almost-affair with absolute finality. Interaction with her on a familial level after that would be tough, but I'd deal with it. Life would move on as usual. I'd drown myself in a bottle of scotch and the next available warm body, and all would be well once more in my pathetic little world.

Seconds ticked by. Our light turned green, and the car ahead of us began to move. My heart sank. I shifted to first and began to ease up on the clutch, reluctantly signaling to turn right.

"Let's go," she said suddenly.

A spike of adrenaline overloaded my system at the sound of her voice, momentarily stealing my breath. I recovered quickly, though, turning off the signal and punching the accelerator. We barreled past several vehicles before I aggressively forced my way into the far left lane so we could turn onto 5th Avenue. Once there, we cruised south for a few blocks. With the I-5 on-ramp in sight, I slowed, waiting for the light to turn green. When it did, I floored her, and within a minute we were flying fast and furious on the freeway.

The Ferrari handled like a dream. Forget the elegant prancing pony emblazoned on the car brand's symbol – she was more like a wild mustang let loose from a corral. I found myself having to fight to keep her under ninety as we sailed over Lake Union towards the south side. The sun on my skin, the wind in my hair, having this beautiful woman at my side with the promise of hours of pleasure ahead of us… I felt fucking fantastic for the first time in weeks.

"Where are we going?" Bella yelled, straining to make herself heard over the roar of the engine.

"Georgetown!"

"Where?"

"You'll see!" I smiled, reaching for her hand, which I squeezed and then held gently. I was beyond thrilled when she didn't pull away.

Fifteen minutes later, I tugged in the reins, slowing our mechanical steed as I took the Airport Way exit. Bella watched our surroundings curiously, her brow furrowed. SoDo was definitely not one of Seattle's hot spots. Industrial districts rarely are. She probably thought I was taking her to some abandoned warehouse with a secret love nest. Actually, the place we were going wasn't exactly a five-star hotel, but it was exceptionally clean, out of the way, and run by some of the nicest people in the city. Besides, I had business to take care of there; I'd have come down this way today whether Bella was with me or not.

We drove past the old Ranier brewery and under the West Seattle Bridge, falling in line with everyone else headed to the Georgetown area. Once there, I turned right onto South Lucille. I'd envisioned bringing Bella here weeks ago already, the two of us ensconced in the one place I knew I we could lock the rest of the world out – the one place where the chances of our being caught in a compromising position were slim to none even in a worst case scenario.

Bella laughed quietly when I finally pulled into the rather unassuming lot, her gaze fixed on the motel's fiesta-colored sign. "The Happy Hacienda?"

"Never judge a book by its cover," I chided playfully, easing the Ferrari into one of the parking spaces.

"Will the car be safe here?" she asked, suddenly cautious. Indeed, ours was by far the most ostentatious vehicle on the property. Judging by those we'd passed on the roads, it was probably the most ostentatious in the whole district.

"Absolutely," I reassured.

Bella peered at me doubtfully, but followed my lead when I got out. She tried to be unobtrusive about it, but I still caught sight of her slipping off her wedding ring and shoving it into her jeans pocket. The symbolic gesture made me pause, but the doubt only lasted a few moments. This was real. It was finally going to happen, and I couldn't have been happier for it. Refocusing, I tapped on the car's key fob, and the trunk popped open for me.

"You're not even going to put the top up and lock it?"

I grinned, grabbing my medical bag and closing the trunk back up. "Nope." There was quite literally no reason for such precautions. Not here, anyway.

"Nice wheels."

Bella whirled around, obviously startled by the unfamiliar voice so close behind us. I hadn't seen him coming, either, but that was just par for the course. It was his job to lurk about the premises, keeping an eye on things.

Turning, my smile widened. "César!" I greeted, holding out my hand – and the two Benjamins I'd had folded up and ready for him. It didn't escape my attention that Bella had unobtrusively taken a step backward, shielding herself somewhat behind me even as she grinned politely at our exchange. I couldn't blame her. The big Mexican was as tall as I was and a hell of a lot more muscular. Scars riddled his face and arms, each one worn like the trophy he considered them to be.

César shook my hand vigorously, and then shook his head when he realized what I was doing. "Ah, your money is no good here, Dr. Cullen," he told me, handing back the hundred-dollar bills.

I promptly stuffed them into the pocket of his tight black t-shirt. "This is a very special car, mi amigo," I explained, clapping his shoulder.

His expression turned sheepish. He knew damn well my tips had little to do with ensuring the safety of my vehicle. "Thanks, man," he offered, fist-bumping me as he acknowledged Bella with a respectful nod. "Señorita." Then he slipped back into the afternoon shadows on the west side of the U-shaped building, offering no further arguments. I was glad of that. César had never been anything but cordial to me, and I definitely wanted to keep it that way.

"So, he's the local junkyard dog, huh?" Bella asked, her gaze following his retreat.

"That's one way of looking at it, yes."

She took off her sunglasses and squinted at me. "He's impressive, but if a group of idiots _really_ wanted to steal the car…"

I chuckled, gently urging her forward. "César can be pretty intimidating, as you've already seen. Besides, he's packing. I know for a fact he keeps at least three concealed weapons on him at all times. And he knows how to use them."

Gaping at me, she murmured, "Is that even legal?"

I shrugged as we approached the lobby entrance. "I, for one, know nothing about it," I told her innocently, punctuating the statement with a wink.

Inside, César's brother Raúl greeted us with friendly words and warm handshakes, and then gestured off to his left, wishing us a comfortable stay. He knew why I was here – both reasons, and he also knew that I needed no directions. Gathering Bella's hand in my own, I led her through the hallways I knew so intimately. Some motels smelled of dust and stale cigarette smoke; others showed their wear and tear through visual cues: frayed carpeting, chipped paint, gouged woodwork, and the like. Not this one. Everything here was immaculate, and it always had been. Smoking had never been allowed anywhere in the building, so the air inside was fresh and clean, aided in part by small ceiling fans that were always in motion.

As soon as we rounded the corner at the end of the hall, I slowed to a halt and turned to Bella. I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers, a sweet promise of what was to come. She responded eagerly, much to my pleasure and relief, grasping the front of my polo top.

"I want you," she whispered once we'd pulled apart.

Cupping her cheek, I replied, "I want you, too. Desperately. I know this moment is long overdue, but would you mind waiting just another twenty minutes or so? There's something I need to do first. It's important."

She blinked at me, and then glanced at my medical bag, easily making the connection. "Yeah, sure."

I smiled, giving her another quick kiss before taking her hand once more. We walked to the very end of the corridor, which, unlike its corresponding hallway on the other side of the motel, bottomed out with a single door. I knocked, putting some force behind the action. A few moments later, the door opened, the delightful combination of chile verde and soft salsa music wafting from the rooms beyond.

"Carlos!" Luisa Martínez García exclaimed, stepping forward and pulling my face down until she could plant kisses on both of my cheeks. In her mid-60s, she was still a striking beauty, one whose maternal instinct brooked no argument. Without even waiting for an introduction, she ushered us both inside, rambling on in Spanish about how Bella was far too skinny and needed to be fed, pronto. I grinned as I watched Bella being led away towards the kitchen area. She looked back at me, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and massive confusion.

Before I had time to ponder why Luisa was teasing Bella by not speaking English, I was inundated by welcomes from the rest of the large family. I accepted all the hugs, handshakes, and kisses graciously, sharing brief but polite conversation with the older members. Once pleasantries had been exchanged, I zeroed in on my tasks, the first of which sat in a wheelchair on the far side of what served as the living room for all four generations.

Smiling, I approached the boy slowly, mindful of the fearful look in his eye. "Hey, Buddy," I soothed, kneeling in front of him. He smiled just a little and then averted his gaze. His mother, Graciela, sat in a chair right beside him, rubbing his arm.

"How has he been?" I asked her.

"Very good," she answered. "No bad time."

"That's great news. You're keeping up with his therapy?"

"Sí. We, ahh…we…hacemos ejercicios cada día," Graciela finally said, reverting to her native tongue when she couldn't find the right words. Fortunately, after hanging around Eleazar for so long, I'd managed to pick up a fair amount of Spanish, and had no trouble understanding her.

"How about we take a look. Would that be okay, Jesús?"

The boy nodded, laughing a little when I tickled under his chin. With permission granted, I proceeded to check the mobility in his legs and arms, stretching, bending, and palpating as needed. There wasn't much atrophy presenting yet; that aspect appeared unchanged since my last visit. Still, the progression of that particular muscular dystrophy symptom was enough to make walking very awkward and somewhat dangerous for him. I sighed, warring with my emotions. I'd always had a hard time remaining professionally detached whenever I treated children, especially those like Jesús who faced a shortened life filled with many difficulties. Add in the fact that I was such a close family friend, and it was hard to ignore that I would most likely be present at his funeral.

"Everything looks very good," I announced with a smile. Reaching down, I opened my medical bag and pulled out the stethoscope. "Time to listen to your lungs."

Graciela helped him scoot forward while I slipped the instrument on. "Can you give me some big, deep breaths?" I asked, placing the smaller side of the chestpiece against his lower back. He followed my instructions diligently, allowing me to confirm that the prominent asthmatic squeak was still there.

Taking the stethoscope off, I hung it around my neck and rifled through my bag. I hated this part the most, a sentiment I knew Jesús shared wholeheartedly. When I glanced back up after finding everything I needed, I saw his lower lip was already quivering. He was trying so hard not to cry.

"I like your t-shirt. Is that Batman?" I asked, trying to distract him while I gently rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. He nodded. "Do you like the old TV show or the cartoons?"

He inhaled raggedly before answering, "Dibujos animados."

"I don't think I've ever seen the cartoons. Is the story the same as in the TV series?" I worked quickly and efficiently, donning disposable gloves and then sterilizing his arm with an alcohol wipe.

Jesús sniffled a few times as he continued to try and keep his fear under control. Then he started telling me the superhero's story in that difficult-to-follow manner that made children so absolutely precious. He was switching seamlessly back and forth between English and Spanish as he spoke, another indication of how upset he was. The immunotherapy would last another two years minimum; for his sake, I certainly hoped the poor little guy would become more comfortable with this procedure in the future.

For the moment, though, I'd made sure to keep the syringe out of his line of sight. Mixing the sterile diluent with the allergenic extract ahead of time had also spared him that added anxiety. In a series of quick moves, I picked up the syringe, placed the capped tip between my teeth, pulled the needle free, and injected the extract subcutaneously – all before he'd even realized what I'd done. He was still talking away when I pressed a sterile cotton ball against the injection site.

"Here, Buddy, can you hold this for me?" I asked him.

He looked at his arm, placing his fingers against the cotton. "It's done?"

I smiled. "All done. I know you like Batman, but all I have are Spiderman Band-Aids. Will that be okay?"

Jesús nodded, smiling back. The evil syringe was gone – for now, at least. Unfortunately for him, either I or Eleazar would be back again in four weeks for another round.

After decorating his arm with a colorful Spidey bandage, I shifted my things to the coffee table where I could prep for the other two injections. Juan and Martín were already standing nearby with their sleeves rolled up. They were older and far less needle-shy, having been through this a lot longer. I followed the same procedure with them, and then cleaned up, tossing all the non-sharps refuse into a small bag. I would dispose of everything at the medical center on Monday.

Graciela smiled at me. "Gracias, Dr. Cullen."

"No es nada," I replied, glancing at the kids. Jesús was giggling madly with his siblings, the trauma of the day all but forgotten.

Luisa suddenly appeared at my side. "Now it is time for you to eat!" she insisted, herding me towards the kitchen. I knew better than to argue. When I looked up, I saw Bella smirking at me from where she sat at the table. A large bowl of chile verde had been set in front of her.

As we neared the kitchen, I made a beeline inside, looking for Mama Pilar, who was stationed in her usual spot in front of the stove. I was quite sure I'd never seen her anywhere else in all the years I'd known this family. I sneaked up behind her, wrapping my free arm around her waist before planting a loud kiss to her cheek, murmuring, "Eres las mujer más bella del mundo."

Mama Pilar immediately let loose with a playful tirade in Spanish, chiding me in equal parts for bothering her and for making ridiculous claims about an old woman being so beautiful. I laughed as she snapped her towel at me, the amused glint in her dark eyes giving away how she really felt. It astounded me how someone who had lived through The Great Depression, World War II, and raising nine children – not to mention countless grandchildren and great-grandchildren – could still be standing here in her kitchen, cooking for her family from dawn until dusk, without a single complaint about her health. She was every bit the pillar her name suggested.

"Siéntate!" she ordered, pointing to the table in the dining area.

I quickly complied, setting my medical bag on the floor beside Bella's backpack. As I took my seat, Bella leaned over and whispered, "I think you secretly like having women tell you what to do."

Grinning, I waggled my eyebrows, leaning down to capture her lips. "Mmm, you taste good." I let the double entendre hang in the air, curious to see how she would react.

"Whatever this is, it's awesome," Bella said, taking another spoonful of the hearty stew. She'd ignored the innuendo, but the slight quirk of her lips told me she'd caught on well enough.

A steaming bowl of chile verde materialized in front of me then. I glanced up to find Luisa gazing oddly at me. When I blinked at her, cocking my head in question, she just offered a soft, knowing smile before slipping back into the kitchen. She reemerged moments later with a basket of fresh, warm bolillos for us.

"Luisa, this is Isabella," I said, finally remembering my manners. "Bella, this is Luisa Martínez García."

"Isabella!" Luisa gushed, drawing out the name as she rounded the table. Bella looked mildly worried, but seemed to relax a bit when Luisa cupped her cheeks and gave her the same double kiss she'd given me. "You are such a beautiful girl," she proclaimed before switching gears without batting an eyelash. "You must eat," Luisa told her, tapping the table next to Bella's bowl in that endearing don't-argue-with-your-mother manner. "There is more when you are finished."

Bella stared after her, wide-eyed and obviously confused, when Luisa slipped into the living room, leaving us to finish our meal in peace. "It was nice to meet you, too," she offered belatedly before turning to me, whispering, "What was that all about?"

I chuckled. "She thinks you're too thin." Reaching for one of the bolillos, I tore it and offered half to Bella.

"Really? Well, considering I ate a full lunch right before you picked me up, I'd say I'm well on my way to some serious weight gain." She grinned, tucking back into her meal.

"No worries," I assured her. "I'll be working it off you."

Bella stopped chewing, her smile disappearing as she studied her food. "Always promises," she murmured, the social temperature between us starting to cool noticeably.

Despite the kisses and hand-holding and lustful whispers we'd shared in the last half an hour, despite the fact that I knew how deeply I'd fucked up, her words still stung. They were like mini hollow-point bullets piercing my chest, their trajectory taking them dangerously close to my heart. Absently, I dipped the bread into my stew, stalling. I'd known this conversation was going to happen. And I'd thought I was prepared. How many angry women – wives and lovers alike – had I faced over the years? It was familiar territory, a song I'd played time and again, upside down, inside out, and backwards at every conceivable tempo. I was a fucking maestro in this particular recital hall, but for some inexplicable reason she'd breached my defenses with a simple two-word improvisation, leaving me feeling slightly battered and shaken. I should have agreed with her. I should have come right out and admitted my mistakes, just as I'd had every intention of doing while making arrangements for this little rendezvous. Instead, my instincts took control, as they always did when it came to screwing with women, and I found myself hiding behind the only protective shield I'd ever found useful: arrogant indifference.

"Say it," I told her quietly, my gaze drifting back to hers. The accusatory spark I saw there wasn't unexpected. "Go ahead."

Bella finished chewing her mouthful. After another pause, she asked, "What? That you're a bastard for ignoring my messages?"

"Did you expect anything less?" I shot back before I could stop myself.

I felt the situation quickly slipping through my fingers as she glared at me, tears welling in her eyes. "You're right. I shouldn't have expected anything different from someone whose hobby is fucking anything with tits that isn't his wife."

We both straightened in our seats, focusing on our meals when Luisa suddenly reappeared, passing through the dining area on her way to the kitchen. "Let's take this someplace a little more private, shall we?" I offered when we were alone once more.

"Whatever."

I cringed at the emotion in her voice. This was hurting her, and that was the last thing I'd ever wanted to do. Were it possible, I would have given myself a good swift kick in the ass – and maybe a few more in the head too, not that it would have helped any. The damage was already done. Again.

Pulling a key card from my pocket, I pointed to the door. "Go straight down the hall to the emergency exit. Push it open – the alarm is silent, and the front desk will know what you're doing. Directly outside is a fire escape that leads up to a single door on the second floor. When you get inside the room, leave the door propped open for me. I need to check on the boys before I follow."

Bella snatched the card from me without a backward glance and grabbed her backpack. Within seconds, she was gone. I took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. I had to get myself under control and stop this chain reaction before the devastation became irreparable. A million gloomy scenarios started flashing through my mind as I slipped into the living room. I managed to hold them at bay long enough to ensure that the boys weren't suffering any unexpected allergic reactions, but then they crept back to the forefront, looming harbingers. Christ, would Bella even be there when I got up to the loft, as we called it? She was no delicate china doll; if she was pissed off enough, I wouldn't put it past her to catch a cab to the U-District before I'd even set foot back in the motel proper.

"Carlos?"

I halted, mid-stride, as Luisa strode from the kitchen, crooking her finger at me. She didn't look happy. I cursed inwardly, wondering whether she'd overheard part of our conversation.

Forcing a smile, I met her in front of the table, bending to kiss her cheek. "Thank you for the chile verde, querida."

She just stood there, arms crossed, making me feel decidedly uncomfortable. I shifted my weight, wondering how I could politely extricate myself from this situation. One simply didn't walk away from Luisa, especially not when she had that look in her eye.

"One of these days," she began, poking her finger at my chest, "you need to start thinking with your heart, and not your pene."

I blinked, choking back a laugh. I'd never heard her talk that way before, not in all the years I'd been bringing women here on the sly. My amusement faded quickly, though, when her eyes narrowed. I opened my mouth to say something, but she cut me off.

"She is a beautiful girl, Carlos. She deserves better." With that, Luisa brushed past me into the living room.

Better what? Better treatment? Better lover? …both? I clenched my jaw, another round of self-loathing churning in my gut. I'd never told Luisa I was married, but I knew she suspected as much. The family heirloom I used as a wedding band was hardly proof of anything, but I'd paraded beautiful faces through here for many, many years, never once officially 'settling down.' Luisa was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Feeling suitably chastised, I grabbed my medical bag and left.

The distance between the Garcías' suites and the loft amounted to roughly sixty paces and eighteen steps. In the past, I'd covered it in as little as twenty seconds when highly motivated, and as long as five full minutes when feeling impish. Today, it seemed like the longest walk of my life, and the only one I'd ever taken alone. A barrage of conflicting emotions continued to assault me along the way, adding insult to injury. How the fuck did I get to this moment? How the _fuck_ did I manage to weave myself yet another dangerous web of lustful intentions that inexplicably reversed course, leaving me struggling to find my equilibrium? This endless circle of hurting and being hurt had become unbearable. I desperately wished I could just rewind everything and start over, leaving out the father-in-law-takes-up-with-his-step-son's-wife part altogether. It wouldn't have stopped me from thinking about all the delicious possibilities with Bella, but at least I could have suffered in silence, sparing her any of the agony of dealing with my unseemly behavior.

The emergency exit pushed open at my touch. Outside, the air was still warm and refreshing, but it barely registered as I ascended the metal stairway. I couldn't even look up at my destination, I was so afraid of what might or might not be there waiting for me. Each step I took weighed on me, dragging me down, until I finally stood on the landing just outside the motel's secret hideaway. There, in my peripheral vision…

One of Bella's shoes was playing doorstop.

I didn't pause, didn't stop to think or sigh in relief. I just let myself in, gently toeing the worn black Converse out of the way and letting the door close behind me. I shifted the tacky but requisite 'OCCUPIED' sign into place out of habit, and made sure the white ruffled curtains were sufficiently drawn against any prying eyes before allowing my gaze to drift in her direction.

Bella stood on the other side of the room, staring everywhere but at me. She didn't move when I approached. Didn't even blink. I set my bag down on the rattan dresser and stepped into her line of vision. It took a while, but she finally looked up at me. There was pain written in those soft brown eyes, a swirling mixture of hurt and anger and disappointment. Unbelievably, the only thought that crossed my mind at that moment was how fucking gorgeous she was. No remorse, no apologies, no random thoughts on how to fix this ridiculous mess I'd gotten us both into…nothing except profound adoration for the woman before me.

That's when I knew I was completely and utterly fucked.

I took a step closer; she took a step back. I edged forward again. She retreated in kind. Our little dance continued until the wall hindered her progress. Reaching up, I braced myself with one hand, leaning down until we were eye to eye. Her breath fanned across my face like a sweet breeze, but the look in her eyes remained hard, uncompromising. Like a challenge waiting to be met. And it made my cock twitch in the worst way.

Those perfect lips of hers called to me, and I couldn't resist memorizing their soft pink blush. They parted as I watched, and her tongue peeked out, briefly sliding across that oh-so-kissable surface. I almost groaned. Was she tantalizing me on purpose? My gaze locked with hers once more, and this time I saw a flash of something very familiar intertwined with the anger that hadn't abated in the least: smoldering desire. The incendiary combination lit my body from the inside out, leaving me barely able to breathe let alone control the aching need that surged in my groin. Bella still wanted me. Despite my flippancy and pompousness and extremely poor judgment, she still wanted this to happen. It was a tenuous thread, but it was there, and that's all that mattered.

Slowly, I grinned, inching ever closer to that beautiful face. Bella's chin lifted away from me, a last-second act of defiance. I allowed it, lightly dragging the tip of my nose across her right cheek until very little distance separated our lips. That's where I waited, poised.

Her gaze sought mine again, now heavy-lidded and filled with unbridled want. "Bastard," she whispered.

Permission granted.

My mouth found hers then, and I prayed with everything I had that she wouldn't push me away. Not here. Not now. All it took was a split second of indecision on her part before she fisted my shirt and yanked me closer in a sizzling explosion of passion. I responded with a flurry of tongue and eager fingers. Bella reached up around my neck, bracing herself while she hopped into my arms, wrapping those gorgeous legs around me. I pressed her into the wall with a loud groan, shamelessly grinding my erection against that unbelievable little body of hers. _Christ Almighty…_

A divine mixture of heaven and hell; that's what this was. Everything I could have possibly wanted was cradled in my arms, this beautiful, passionate, edgy little minx who set me afire like no other. She was also everything I couldn't have. Someone else's ring would adorn her finger the moment we left here. Someone else kissed her good night and fell asleep in her arms. Someone else could make love to her without regret tearing a hole in his gut large enough to park the fucking Ferrari in. This was hardly the time or place, of course, but it was difficult to hold the unsettling thoughts at bay. They hovered like vultures, lending a bitter taste to my exuberance. Here, in this room of fantasies, she was mine. But she would never truly belong to me, and that hurt far more than I would care to admit to anyone. Especially myself.

I pushed us away from the wall with one hand and swung around, half-stumbling the few steps needed to reach the bed. I couldn't bear to open my eyes just yet. I wanted this moment to stretch into eternity. Doing my best to cast everything else aside, I focused on the immediate necessities: Bella, beneath me; naked.

The mattress welcomed us as we sank into its embrace, but the bed frame protested arrogantly. I fucking loved that little squeak. I loved it as much as I loved hearing a woman's pleasure. It was bold and sexy as hell, proudly keeping time with each forbidden shudder.

While our tongues dueled, I rolled myself to the side so I could pull her jersey off. The brief pause needed to get it over her head afforded me the most breathtaking view: No. Fucking. Bra. I couldn't resist; I dove for those rosy nipples at once, teasing and worrying and sucking until Bella dragged me back up to her mouth. The tone of this kiss was different, though. It was much more forceful. Raw. With teeth. When she bit the corner of my lower lip, I tasted blood, and fuck if that didn't do a number on my already bulging desire. I pulled back, panting, needing to see what was written in those beautiful eyes. She was the picture of sinful intent, all sensual gazes and provocative posturing, but I wasn't fooled. A pissed off woman doesn't let go of her ire that quickly, not even a level-headed one.

I swirled my tongue over Bella's handiwork, the metallic tang awakening my taste buds. Had it been a playful nip or something just a bit darker? The corners of her mouth quirked into a self-satisfied grin while she watched me, causing all kinds of warning bells to go off in my gut. Not two seconds later, my steadfast reflexes helped me avoid walking around for the rest of the day with a hand print on my left cheek.

Definitely retribution, then.

I could have added my own sting to the mix, upping the ante for this little head game, but I was well aware that I deserved a lot more than she'd dished out. Still holding her right hand away from my face – and making sure the other one was tucked safely against my side – I leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to her lips. I followed it with a second, then a third, taking my time until I felt her begin to melt against me. My grip on her wrist relaxed just enough for me to gauge whether my initial wordless apology had done its job. I was relieved to note that it had, and when I let go completely, she wrapped both of her arms around me, pulling me close while she thrust her hips against my arousal.

Our mutual lust quickly heated things up. Her scent, the silky softness of her hair, the feel of her bare breasts pressed against my shirt…it was intoxicating. Not able to wait any longer, I forced myself to break away and stand up, reaching at once for the rest of her clothing. Her jeans, underwear, even her socks all came off in one sweeping tug. For a few moments afterward, all I could do was stare. Ever heard the phrase _sex on legs_? Bella was exquisite from head to toe, of course, but those legs… Yeah. They were fucking sex personified. Mesmerized, I grasped her ankles and pulled her closer, lifting one of those long, beautiful limbs for a closer inspection. Resting her foot on my shoulder, I trailed lips and fingers along her smooth skin, tasting, worshipping. I probably could have come in my boxer briefs just from touching her here, for Christ's sake.

Bella must have figured as much from the expression on my face, because the next thing I knew she'd reclaimed her leg, pulling it from my grasp. "You are way the fuck too over-dressed," she declared.

Grinning, I reached up and yanked my polo off, tossing it aside. Her eyes widened as she drank me in, much to my ego's delight. Exercise had always been a major part of my weekly routine. I was no Mr. Universe, but my body was very well maintained. And apparently that was a bit of a turn-on.

After pausing just long enough to offer Bella a nice view, I undid my slacks and divested myself of the rest of my clothes, carefully freeing my aching erection from its confines. She'd already caught a glimpse of my junk once before, but that didn't stop her from gazing longingly at that particular part of my anatomy. Then she fucking licked her lips, and that was it for me. Show and tell was officially over; it was time for some long overdue down and dirty.

I padded around the side of the bed, Bella watching my every move. There was no Bible tucked away in this particular room; there was, however, an abundance of things necessary for a damned good time. Condoms and personal-sized tubes of lube in a wide array of flavors adorned the bottom of the night stand drawer. I peered back at Bella, letting my imagination run with that train of thought. Definitely strawberry.

While I picked out what I wanted, setting all but one condom on top of the table, Bella pulled back the covers and scooted her way up to the head of the bed. For a few moments, that perfect little ass of hers was peeking at me. That was enough to spur me into high gear, ripping open the condom wrapper and rolling the sheath on in mere seconds. Then I pounced, quickly crawling across to where she was still arranging the sheets. She didn't resist when I turned both of us towards the mirrored closet doors that nearly touched the side of the bed, and silently urged her to lie on her stomach.

Mindful of my larger bulk, I molded myself to her soft contours, letting my hands wander along her arms and shoulders. The feel of my cock nestled against her cheeks made me throb. "You are so beautiful," I whispered, brushing her hair out of the way so I could nuzzle her neck.

Bella arched her back, pushing against me. "And impatient."

I aimed a breathy chuckle into her ear. "Minx."

Seconds later I sat back up, hauling her onto hands and knees. She squeaked at my sudden move, but I held her firmly, pressing us both forward until I'd trapped her beneath me, doggy-style. My eager fingertips found her clit, rubbing and pinching until she squirmed. Then I dipped into her center, testing. Oh, she was more than ready for me now. Placing a wet kiss on her shoulder, I aligned myself and teased her entrance, grinning when she started barking expletives.

I tortured her as long as I dared, and then tightened my grip to get her attention. "Watch us, Bella," I told her. "Watch…"

When her gaze met mine in the mirror, I pushed into her warmth inch by glorious inch, moving slowly to allow her body to adjust. Her mouth fell open, eyes closing against my delicious onslaught.

"Watch," I whispered again, nipping her earlobe. Fuck, she was tight!

Brown eyes opened once again, peering at me while she bit her lip. Her breathing deepened when I came to a stop, fully embedded, her fingers grasping desperately at the sheets. I held us right there, suspended. I wanted to memorize everything – the feel of her skin, the marvelous passion-swept tangle of mahogany hair hiding half her face, the scent of our mutual arousal…the absolute fucking perfection of everything that was Bella. She surrounded me – infused me – on so many levels, emotional and physical. I just wished I could pause time and live in this moment forever. It was Bella who ultimately broke the spell, though, clamping her inner muscles until I groaned in sweet agony.

Gazing at her intently, I pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, the force of my thrust inching both of us a little closer to our counterparts in the mirror. I did the same thing again. And again. Bella writhed and grasped awkwardly at me, uttering a litany of four-letter words that made my cock even harder. When she begged me to pull her hair, I nearly came.

The pleasure of it all was unreal, exquisite and sharp. It made my mind and body sing in perfect harmony, and I used every skilled touch, every hotly whispered seductive expression I knew to make sure she was experiencing the same. Feeling her tremble absolutely thrilled me; hearing her guttural moans stroked my vanity in all kinds of new and exciting ways. I rubbed her sweet spot relentlessly with my free hand until she finally climaxed, my name spilling from those beautiful lips in a desperate, soul-shattering cry. Closing my eyes, I relished in the sensory overload that drove me closer and closer to my own release: the taste of her skin; the sound of our sweat-drenched bodies slapping together in precise counterpoint with that sexy, sexy squeak; the feel of her silky hair wrapped around my fingers while I held her head awry…

It wasn't long before I had both of us on our knees, with Bella trapped face-first against the mirrored closet door. I could hear the loud rattle as it shifted in its track, and something about that sound made me open my eyes again. What I saw cut straight through my heart. Our faces were obscured, the fog of our combined passion completely blocking the view. I tried wiping some of it away, a vain attempt to recapture the picture of blissful perfection I'd seen only minutes before, but of course it didn't work. We were blurred. Distorted. Just like our relationship. And our reality.

Two people fucking. That's all we were. Nothing more, nothing less.

The searing pain of that recognition sliced through me like a scalpel, reaching all those places deep inside where I was most vulnerable. I struggled just to take a breath, and all the pleasure I'd been feeling began to fizzle along with my once limitless excitement. I slowed to a stop, still buried deep inside her.

_She expects to be fucked._

The lump that formed in my throat simply couldn't be swallowed. It was too large.

_She wants to be fucked._

How could this have happened? I'd fucked plenty of women. That's what I did. I played and fucked and used them because that's all there was. Why was it suddenly not enough?

_Because it's Bella._

Bella… God, this was so wrong. I couldn't even look into her eyes. I was screwing her from behind like she was an animal in heat, for Christ's sake. If I were being completely honest with myself, I didn't even _want_ to _fuck_ her – that was the kicker. And yet, here I was, doing just that.

"Not like this…" I whispered, letting go of her hair and hiding my face there while I blinked back all the intense emotions that were seizing me: remorse, anger…shame.

Bella craned her neck. "Carlisle?"

_She deserves better._

Luisa's words rang through my head over and over in a torturous whisper. Bella did deserve better. So did I, damn it. Even if it was just for one afternoon, one single fucking afternoon in a secret love nest. I focused back on the mirror and our reflections. More fog. More blurred reality. Then my gaze slid across Bella's face – the real one, mere inches from my own. Her lips were still parted, her eyes straining to look into mine.

_No more fucking._

My silent vow emboldened me, chasing away all the turmoil that churned in my gut. I slid from her warmth and shifted myself backwards, urging her to turn and lie down beside me. I searched her expression for signs of annoyance or disappointment, but all I saw was a certain degree of confusion, which was understandable. When we could finally gaze at each other face to face, I smiled softly, running my hands along her legs. Bella grinned back, rubbing her foot against my erection, but I gently pushed it away. This was my moment – my moment to worship and revere her; my moment to adore this breathtaking woman completely with all that I am. _This_ is what she deserved: to be cherished, not fucked.

Bella opened herself to me when I scooted down and began kissing the insides of her thighs. So smooth…so feminine. She smelled divine, and I found myself drawn to her delicate center within moments. Unlike the hurried rendezvous at their wedding reception I took my time, tasting, teasing…pleasuring. I drank of her for what seemed like hours until she shuddered, the music of her impassioned cry shooting straight to my groin.

I brought her down slowly then, using gentle touches and whispered endearments. She didn't need to know that I meant each and every one of them with complete sincerity. I knew. Given the nature of our relationship, that would have to be enough. In here, though, I could imagine she was mine, and I poured every ounce of fervor into each kiss, each caress. My lips paved a trail of devotion all the way up her body. I felt her fingers stroking my arms, my head. Instead of the simple lust-filled stimulation it probably was, I pretended it was her own unspoken affection for me. It was so easy to do, too, especially when I nestled myself between her legs and gazed down into that beautiful face. For the first time in my entire fucking life, I saw no hidden agenda written in my partner's eyes; just a healthy dose of desire and excitement. Her expression was completely guileless. I hadn't realized until now how much I'd longed to hold a woman in my arms who gazed back at me just like this. Not even my own wives had been so candid. The moment was as dreamlike as it was profound, and a wellspring of emotion gathered in my chest, making it hard to breathe. My fingertips wandered lightly across her cheek in a gesture of tenderness so pure that I actually felt lightheaded. I was absolutely enthralled.

"Carlisle?" Bella whispered, the question reaching all the way to those soulful brown eyes. "Are you okay?"

I responded with a kiss, sweet and deep, while I cradled her head with one hand. The other swiftly joined our bodies together once more. And this time we made love, rocking and laughing like true lovers, wrapped in our own little cocoon of unselfish passion. The air was filled with all those unbelievable little sounds she made that drove me wild. I kept my gaze locked with hers as I thrust and gyrated my hips just so, smiling when her breath hitched.

"Fuck…"

Bella grasped a handful of the sheets, pulling them taut as she arched against me.

"Oh, God… Carlisle…"

I stole another kiss, my heart pounding when she frantically grabbed my shoulders, using the leverage to push herself against me with equal enthusiasm. Her breath was ragged when we pulled apart, her face and chest flushed the most exquisite shade of scarlet. Her mouth fell open, gasping and mewling as she began to shudder beneath me, and suddenly I was right there with her, spilling myself in wave after wave of glorious pleasure.

We were both still shaking when I pulled out and rolled us over, draping her atop me like a blanket. Bella was laughing softly into the crook of my neck, probably because I couldn't stop pressing kisses to her brow. I couldn't help myself; it was a beautiful moment, so pure and simple and so fucking _right_. The fingers of her left hand danced up my side and then along my arm until they twined with mine. The silence that stretched between us as we calmed wasn't the least bit uncomfortable – at least not until she spoke, her whisper piercing the afterglow with a harsh dose of reality.

"I only wanted to apologize."

At first I was confused, my sated brain a study in fuzziness, but then it dawned on me: the gallery mishap…which, naturally, led straight to my epic failure at showing any concern in the aftermath. Before I could even begin to sort out why Bella felt an apology was necessary, she continued, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"I said some horrible things to you that night. I just wanted you to know how sorry I was for everything; that's why I kept texting."

"I'm the one who needs to apologize, Bella," I offered quietly, shocking the hell out of myself. "You had a legitimate excuse for your actions. I, on the other hand, did not. Other than being a selfish bastard…."

The words slipped past my lips effortlessly, without so much as a hint of the mental anguish I'd always envisioned in such a scenario. All these years I'd prided myself on skirting issues with women that required any sort of admission of guilt on my part, fearing it would make me look weak or allow one of my more conniving lovers to gain the upper hand. Imagine my surprise at how liberating – how utterly fucking good – it felt to say that I was sorry for something. Of course, unlike any of the other precarious situations in which I'd found myself tangled, I genuinely meant it this time. Apparently that made all the difference in the world.

Bella raised her head, her gaze finally meeting mine. "That's part of your charm," she explained. Her expression held no reproof – or amusement, for that matter. I saw nothing but honesty.

Her admission didn't hurt as much as the sad realization that it pretty much summed up my entire fucking life. I _was_ a selfish bastard – a selfish bastard living among those who knew and accepted that fact. And I'd learned from the best of them, too, a long line of selfish Cullen bastards who'd proudly placed their own needs above everyone else's and surrounded themselves with small, like-minded SOBs. Next to me, Eleazar was an honest-to-goodness saint. God, how the hell could people like him even stand to be in my presence?

A pair of warm, inviting lips interrupted my umpteenth downward spiral of the day, pressing gently against my cheek. I smiled at the gesture, even as I fought back the shit-ton of guilt that threatened to suffocate me. I was treading on dangerous ground in so many ways…

My smile turned into a chuckle when Bella began rolling her hips against mine. I might be exceptionally fit for someone my age, but my poor body was still nearly five decades old. It would be a little while yet before Carlisle junior could stand at attention again. Her lips never left my skin as I shifted her to the side and sat up, yanking off the condom. They trailed a wet path down my neck and across my shoulder, pausing to lave the scar I had there, while I tied the rubber off and tossed it in the trash. Petite hands joined in the mix, touching me here, there…practically everywhere all at once. I grabbed a tissue from the night stand, quickly cleaning off my cock before swiping two tubes of lube from my stash. By the time I turned back to her, she'd sprawled backwards onto the sheets, ready and waiting. Bella had me right where she wanted me, and I was all too eager to fulfill her every desire.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in absolute fucking bliss. We made love twice more, the first round of which included liberal amounts of strawberry-flavored exploration. I finally got to indulge in my ultimate leg fantasy which, judging by all the quirked eyebrows and unladylike snorts, Bella just did not get at all. And after dozing for the better part of an hour afterwards, I showed my beautiful lover the art of slow, languid loveplay, of mind-shattering pleasure elicited by the lightest of touches and barely any movement at all. We were left breathless and spent in ecstasy's wake, lying in each other's arms until the long shadows of early evening began to crawl through the curtains.

It was with great reluctance that we finally parted, squeezing ourselves into the loft's miniscule shower for a quick rinse. More silence lay between us as we dressed, but this time the atmosphere felt much different – tense, filled with dark, heavy questions and answers no one wanted to hear. I fucking hated every second of it. I wanted to tell her this wouldn't be the end. I wanted to tell her how grateful I was for her trust, and how much I relished the time we'd spent together, but damn it all to hell if my mouth just wouldn't fucking work. I was too used to my old routine: screwing and leaving, entirely unconcerned with any messy emotional ties. Yeah, I was too used to being a selfish bastard. For some reason, that just didn't sit well when Bella was involved, and I was left at a complete loss. I kept glancing at her, hoping she would say something, but it was obvious she was far away, lost in her own thoughts.

I paused to watch Bella slip on her shoes, admiring, of all things, the gentle curve of her ear when she tucked back a few loose strands of hair. I found the action mesmerizing, and it wasn't until she turned to me, hoisting her backpack over her shoulder, that I was jolted back to the moment. Her eyes held a wealth of uncertainty – it was practically flashing in neon colors, yet she met my gaze bravely. That alone instilled in me a sense of resoluteness that I'd never quite felt before, and that, in turn, gave me strength.

"I really am sorry, Bella," I whispered.

Her gaze softened at my words, a small smile tugging at her lips. Stepping forward, she began fussing with the collar of my polo top, straightening and smoothing. I had a hunch there was more to the gesture than proper grooming, and it didn't take long before I was proven correct, though her train of thought certainly threw me for a loop. Bella's smile slowly morphed into a rather devious smirk before she asked, "Can I drive back?"

I blinked in surprise, automatically digging in my pocket for the keys. "Of course."

Standing on tip-toes, Bella pressed a loud, wet kiss to my cheek. "In that case, you're totally forgiven." Keys in hand, she all but danced her way out the door of the room, whooping and giggling madly.

What, no anger? No nasty verbal artillery or threats of blackmail…just: _you're totally forgiven_? Warmth blossomed in my chest, the first rumblings of hilarity bubbling forth until I was laughing outright. I'd had absolutely no clue something like forgiveness could be so straightforward and uncomplicated. And genuine. What a fucking revelation…

There was a spring in my own steps as I grabbed my medical bag and followed Bella down, stopping briefly at the front desk to offer my thanks to the family. By the time I got outside, she was already settled in the Ferrari, gunning the engine and flashing me that unbelievably wicked grin of hers. I had a feeling I was in for the ride of my life – and I couldn't fucking wait.

We blazed a trail out of Georgetown, the likes of which would have landed us both in jail had there been any cops along our path. I wondered, momentarily, whether there would be any tread left on the tires by the time I returned the car, but that thought got crushed when Bella took a hard left in SoDo and sped through an abandoned warehouse. Parking in the rear, she bowed, offering up her own penance for perceived sins in the form of the best fucking blowjob I've had in my entire life. I shuddered and groaned and laughed until I didn't think things could possibly get any better. Then she kissed me, sharing my taste and making my brain turn to mush.

After necking like teenagers, we raced against twilight down the I-5. It's a good thing I wasn't driving because I couldn't stop watching her. The way the sleepy sun's rays brought out the reddish highlights in her hair; the way the wind caressed all those beautiful curves I wanted to touch again so badly; how her smile broadened each time she shifted gears and accelerated… It was ineffable, this feeling I had. It filled me, warmed me…made me feel whole in ways I'd never experienced. All from just a glance at the woman beside me. Just a single _glance_.

It seemed like such a small thing at first – tiny, ever-present pinpricks of confusion that finally coalesced into brilliant clarity – but the epiphany, when it happened, left me paralyzed with both fear and astonishment. This wasn't one of my usual affairs; it hadn't been from the very beginning. It wasn't even a midlife crisis rearing its ugly head. All the guilt and self-doubt, all the second guessing every single action where she was concerned…all the warmth, all the hopes and desires – all the tumultuous emotions that had never, ever been a factor in any of my relationships, illicit or otherwise… The answer was so fucking simple that I hadn't even seen it sitting right in front of me. I wasn't lusting after Bella at all.

I was in love with her.

_Fuck_.

(~ * ~ * ~)

**A/N: In the last two years, I've struggled through a few severe bouts of creative fog; I lost my mom; I've become the primary caretaker for my partially disabled father who, unfortunately, was sick most of last year; I've remodeled a house; I've been forced to move, downsizing an entire house to the space of two rooms, and I've endured some seriously horrible family %#! in the wake of my mother's passing. Things have been dark and ugly, hence the shit sandwich. And yet, in the midst of all the stress and grief, my Muse began to sing again. I knew she would. Eventually. I'm hopeful this means there are happier times ahead.**

**Again, my deepest apologies for making everyone wait so long. I also apologize to those who have sent feedback or written, only to receive silence from me, and to those whose stories I have yet to catch up on. I needed to step away and get my bearings again before I could come back to play. Now I'm ready.**

Translations

Hacemos ejercicios cada día = We do some exercise every day.

Dibujos animados = cartoons

No es nada – You're welcome.

Eres las mujer más bella del mundo. = You are the most beautiful of all women.

Siéntate! = Sit down!

Querida = Dear

Pene = penis


	9. Girls' Night

**Disclaimer****: Stephenie Meyer and Summit Entertainment own all things **_**Twilight**_**-related. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Warning: AH/AU.**

**Many thanks to my wonderful betae, Carol and BookwormBaby2580, for all their help. Any mistakes in the final draft are entirely my own.**

(~ * ~ * ~)

The days of cruising in my old but very cool Chevy pickup with Amy Winehouse blasting through the speakers were just so fucking gone. Not even the awesome memories could drown out the fact that I was sitting in a very boring, obnoxiously colored Honda listening to – wait for it… _Chopin… _while my husband air-played the piece on the steering wheel. I glanced at him. His hair was combed nicely today; that was because he was having dinner with his mother. There was a cigarette hanging from his lips, though, and the butt-ends of three dead ones in the ashtray — all of them smoked in the last thirty minutes. He was making sure he had his fix before he arrived. God forbid Esme should catch him with a live one.

"So, who's all gonna be there?" Edward asked as we exited the freeway.

"Just me and Alice. Typical girls' night." Well, not quite, but good enough.

He looked decidedly uncomfortable for some reason. "Like, what do you do? Watch chick flicks and paint each other's toenails?"

When the fuck had he ever seen me with painted toenails? "Uhhh, no. We generally play loud hip-hop, test all of Alice's sex toys, make out a little bit, drink 'til we puke, and then pass out in the living room." Serves him right for asking such a stupid question.

Amazingly, his expression relaxed. "Oh, okay."

_I am so fucked._

Blinking back my utter disbelief, I turned to stare out the window. Alice lived in Capitol Hill, which was right on the way to Madison Park where Esme and Carlisle lived. Capitol Hill was the trendy neighborhood. Just like Alice. The night life there was huge — lots of nightclubs and theatres. We'd spent plenty of time prowling the area with fake IDs when we'd been younger.

Slowing to a stop outside Alice's condo complex, Edward took a puff and exhaled, leaning over for a kiss. "Have fun."

"Sure you don't want to join us?" I asked wryly. If he really believed Alice and I were going to get it on — and if he were at all interested in said activity — maybe there was hope for him after all.

He laughed nervously, shaking his head. "Thank you, no."

Coward. Then again, he'd already admitted to me that Alice scared him. Anything that didn't fit well into his low-stress world fucking scared the hell out of him. That's why he chain smoked.

Standing on the sidewalk, I waved as he pulled away… very carefully, after checking for traffic and then signaling, of course. There wasn't a single ounce of misbehavior in him, the poor bastard. I couldn't blame him completely, though. There are reasons why someone grows up to be a nervous wreck, and not all of it is biology. In his case, the largest factor was definitely spelled E-S-M-E.

I resolved to put everything aside as I marched through the complex's well manicured grounds. Tonight was about decompression, about letting go of all the shit that was dragging me down and just having a good time with my best friend. I hadn't seen or talked to Alice for a while, so I was really looking forward to this.

Alice buzzed me up within seconds, and a minute later I walked through her front door, the two of us sharing a much-needed squee hug. "You look like shit," she observed.

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm serious, Chica. Edwin is obviously not good for your health."

I glared at her. "Can we please leave _Edward_ home tonight?"

Without missing a beat — or acknowledging my displeasure — she said, "Absolutely. This is _our_ night. How about some wine?"

I couldn't be angry with Alice — not really. It just wasn't possible to remain annoyed with her. "Is this that satanic wine you like so much?"

She grinned back at me before stepping into the kitchen. "_Casillero del Diablo_. Best fucking Cabernet in the world!"

Tossing my overnight bag on the sofa, I glanced around her living room. It looked kind of like Martha Stewart had gotten a hold of it while under the influence of some bad junk off the street: lots of large stripes, clashing colors, and artwork that probably came straight out of Andy Warhol's nightmares. According to Alice, this was all in vogue. I could think of a few more appropriate terms…

"Here." As I took the proffered glass, she held hers up and continued, "To Girls' Night, and us."

"Hear, hear!"

The clink of our toast was rudely interrupted by the downstairs buzzer. My brow furrowed when Alice walked over and hit the release without even asking who was there. If she'd fucking invited some of her snobby friends from the design institute, I was gonna go postal. They all hated me down there, though Alice kept telling me I was imagining things. Really? How could they _not_ hate someone who refused to wear anything with a designer label unless a gun was pointed straight at her head?

"Can you get the door, Bella? I need to get the sushi ready."

What the fuck? I watched as she casually strolled back to the kitchen, not the least bit affected by my dark expression. I paused, counting to ten, and then tipped back my wine, downing most of the glass in one swig. If I had to face fucktards tonight, I wanted to be appropriately sloshed right from the start.

Her doorbell chimed a few seconds later. Gritting my teeth, I stalked over and threw the door open… only to have my anger evaporate instantly.

I gaped. He gaped back. My brow rose; his followed suit. I grinned a few moments later, a gesture he also mimicked. The display would have been comical if I hadn't been so ecstatic.

"You are a long fucking way from the reservation, Kimosabe," I scolded playfully, trying to keep my excitement in check.

His grin cracked wide open. "Took a wrong turn somewhere back there," he gestured.

I totally jumped into his arms then, laughing when he spun me around several times. He carried me all the way back in and set me down in the living room. "I am so fucking glad you're here, Jake. This is awesome!"

Alice popped into the room, carrying the open wine bottle and a tray of sushi — from Nishino's, no doubt, since she didn't know a spatula from a sauce pan. She smiled at him. "It wouldn't be a proper girls' night without him, right?"

Grabbing my wine glass, I gulped down the rest just as Jake started staring at all the weird decor around us. This, of course, turned out to be a mistake. What is it with me and bad drink timing?

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck threw up in here?" he asked.

I tried to stop the reaction — really, I did, but the effort was futile. I wound up choke-laughing uncontrollably while Alice acted suitably offended.

"Hey now!" she snapped. "I never once complained about your unheated shed!"

"No, just the splinters," he taunted, bringing up a hilarious moment from our high school days.

I keeled over, grabbing Jake's arm to steady myself while I fought for air. Just the memory of that day was almost enough to make me pee my pants.

"Stop!" Alice yelled. "Not this again!"

"You know, I never said you had to use the old outhouse," Jake continued, grinning… which only pissed her off more.

"I didn't know you had indoor plumbing on the res, damn it! We were always out in the shed watching you rebuild shit!"

"And I did offer to help…" he added.

Alice set the sushi down and leveled a finger at him. "There was no way you _or_ those needle-nose pliers were going anywhere near my ass!"

"It's just as well," I piped in, wiping tears from my eyes. "I'm sure it gets really boring down at the ER. They needed some excitement."

Jake laughed. "Biggest full moon Forks had ever seen."

A grin finally found its way onto Alice's face, though her voice was still laced with exasperation. "_Must_ I relive all this again? It was embarrassing enough the first time."

"Oh, we'll make sure it lives on in infamy," I assured her.

"Great," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "More wine?"

I held up my glass. "_Absolutamente_."

Having the three of us together again was the best fucking feeling in the world. We were The Three Amigos of Forks — the Three Musketeers and The Three Stooges all rolled into one. Whenever there'd been mischief afoot, we'd been in the middle of it all, much to my father's intense displeasure. He was the Chief of Police there. Unfortunately.

Alice tossed Jake a questioning glance. "Wine?"

"What, no beer?" he asked through a mouthful of _futomaki_.

She shook her head at him. "You are so uncouth."

"You talk with your mouth full all the time."

"I wasn't referring to that," Alice clarified. She was a fucking wine snob if there ever was one.

Jake threw her an exasperated glare. "You're really gonna make me drink this high-brow crap?"

After a pause, Alice huffed. "In the fridge."

"Yes!" He snaked past her, planting a loud kiss against her cheek.

"Hey, bring me one, too," I called.

Alice looked thoroughly disgusted with me. "Why the hell do I still hang with you people?"

Oh, this one was easy. "Because we know all your dirty secrets and there's this thing called YouTube."

She cackled, clinking her wine glass against mine. "Touché!"

We both kicked back our drinks, draining them in record time. This was going to be one hell of a Girls' Night. I was already surrounded by the best friends a girl could have, with two glasses of wine down and a beer on the way. Could this possibly get any more perfect?

"Microbrew!"

Apparently it could.

Jake rounded the corner and tossed a bottle in my direction, much to Alice's dismay. Fortunately, I wasn't yet wasted enough to drop it. "Anchor Steam," I noted, glancing at Alice. "This is decent stuff."

"Just because I don't drink beer doesn't mean I'm not paying attention."

I heard the hiss of Jake's brew being opened. He didn't waste any time, taking a healthy slug before handing me the church key.

"Open that one at the sink, damn it!" Alice ordered, waving her finger at me.

"Yes ma'am," I replied, totally agreeing with her logic. Beer mess on wooden tavern floors was gross enough to clean up; beer mess on carpeting was even worse.

I made my way into Alice's barely used kitchen. All the appliances looked brand-spanking new. I knew for a fact the stove had never been used. The fridge and microwave were the centers of her culinary universe. In contrast, cooking basic meals was one thing I'd learned early on. Renée couldn't even boil water properly; if it weren't for me, we'd have been eating sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner.

As predicted, the beer foamed over as soon as I opened the bottle, and I quickly chugged down as much as I could. In the background, I could hear Alice putting Jake to work moving furniture around. I smiled at the sound. Just like old times. My smile faded as I stared blankly at the marble countertops, though, and for a few moments all the stress in my life came crashing down on me again. I needed this night so badly, something to numb the ever-growing sense of anxiety in my gut. Too many things in my life were royally screwed up, and I had no one to blame but myself: a ridiculous marriage, a fantasy-like affair with the man of my dreams… and this tiny, unidentifiable twinge tugging at my heartstrings. It was all so strange, so dangerous. And the worst part? I had no fucking clue how I was going to get everything back under control.

A round of Jake's raucous laughter brought me out of the negative spiral I'd started. I took another swig, letting the alcohol set me abuzz, and then headed back to my friends. As soon as I entered the living room, my eyes were drawn to the familiar nest that had been created inside the circle of furniture Jake had made. "Party pillows! I can't believe you still have them."

"Of course I do," Alice countered, tossing the last of them over the couch.

I really was surprised. They were all big and puffy and garishly colored – the very antithesis of Alice's sense of style. The three of us had spent the better part of two years crawling through thrift shops and other discount places looking for the perfect cushions for our Girls' Night get-togethers — and trust me, dragging Alice anyplace besides high-end retail stores was a major accomplishment. Sofas and chairs were too overrated; we wanted to eat, drink, gossip, and pass out in the lap of luxury, and that, quite naturally, required a pit full of pillows.

Watching Jake kick off his shoes, I took the cue. It was time to get comfy. Setting my beer down, I grabbed my overnight bag. Jeans were discarded in short order, replaced with my favorite pair of sleep pants, which I knew would freak Alice out as soon as she noticed. The bra came off next, though I spared Jake any discomfort by undoing it under my t-shirt. Lastly, I switched out my regular socks for a thick, fuzzy pair of scrunchy ones. I could almost hear my toes screaming in ecstasy. Now I was ready to party!

"For fuck's sake, Bella! What the hell is this?"

Thirty seconds. Not bad.

Jake laughed, clapping as I hopped over the sofa and into our little nest. "You're so childish, Bella," he said.

I grinned. "Thank you."

The look on Alice's face was priceless. "Really, Bella? Eeyore? That is so wrong."

"I think they're cute," Jake defended. "Where'd you get 'em?"

"Goodwill."

Alice cringed as she joined us. I made sure I positioned myself so that she had an eyeful of my beautiful Eeyore pants. I loved them.

"I could probably find a pair for you, Ally," I teased. "I bet they would rev Jasper up in all the right ways."

"_Jasper_?" Jake questioned. "Who is this?"

"My boss," I clarified.

"She's fucking your boss?"

I nodded, quickly adding, "He looked exceptionally happy at work the other night."

"Oh, settle!" Alice tried to shush us.

Completely ignoring her, Jake kept his focus on me. "What's he like?"

I grinned evilly. "Tall, with curly, dirty blond hair and a very charming smile. He wears cowboy boots."

Jake's eyebrows hit the ceiling. "You're fucking someone who wears cowboy boots?" he asked Alice, who by now was three shades of red. His expression changed, morphing into the perviest leer I've ever seen. "Do you ride him? Or does he ride you?"

"Stop."

"Does he neigh when you use the riding crop, or just snort all sexy-like?" His imitation of a horse doing the latter nearly had me choking on my drink again.

Even Alice couldn't bite back a bark of laughter. "Stop! We're not doing anything like that. Not yet, anyway."

Completely dumbfounded, Jake and I just stared at each other, blinking.

"Wait a minute," I finally ventured. "You're saying you and Jasper haven't done the nasty yet?"

"No, we haven't. He's a complete gentleman."

Alice looked suitably… I'm not even sure how to describe it. I'd never seen that particular look on her face before. She was the Queen of Sexcapades, and most definitely someone who prided herself on how quickly she could bed her targets. It was all a game to her — or so I thought. Jake and I used to have betting pools, for Christ's sake! And here she was, obviously flustered at being teased, but not looking the least bit embarrassed over not having shagged Mr. Cowboy Boots. She was, in fact, smiling softly to herself, gaze lost in the revolting paisley pattern of the pillow she was hugging.

"Wow," Jake said, leaning back against the front of the loveseat. "You've got it bad, don't you? Since when has sex not been your primary objective?"

She shrugged. "Since I got a taste of what it's like to be treated like a lady?" When both Jake and I tossed her a confused look, she continued, "Jasper opens doors for me; who does that anymore? We talk. He listens because he's genuinely interested in what I have to say; it's not all flirting as a means to an end. He makes me happy in ways I never thought possible, and when I'm with him, I'm not even thinking about sex. It's all very strange… but in a good way."

I vaguely heard Jake ask another question, but I was already lost in my own thoughts, transported back to that fateful day a few weeks before when Carlisle and I had finally connected again. Physically, of course. With him it was _all_ about sex. And whenever _we_ talked, things inevitably turned ugly. Accusations. Finger pointing. Hurtful words that dulled the excitement of this lurid affair. Yet, I'd known full well what I was getting into from that electrifying moment at Juilliard when our gazes had first met. Sex was what I'd wanted. Wasn't it?

Carlisle opened doors for me. Some part of that selfish bastard, as he'd so eloquently put it, was obviously a gentleman, too. I could still feel the warmth of his hand on my lower back as he'd guided me through The Happy Hacienda's halls, caring and protective. I remember marveling at the compassion I'd witnessed as he'd treated those children, as well. And the sex? We may have started out fucking, but I hadn't missed the change in atmosphere when it happened. I'd been stunned at the gentle touches, the depth of emotion in his eyes. I could have sworn I'd seen adoration there.

I could have sworn we'd made love.

I was used to fucking. It was simple. Uncomplicated. But I'd be lying through my teeth if I said I wasn't enchanted with the idea of love, no matter how foreign a concept it was to me. Most girls grow up believing in love, with all its idealistic trappings. Me, I'd always been a realist. That's what happens when one grows up watching parents like mine go their separate ways, forcing me to jet back and forth between two different states to satisfy court-ordered mandates for visitation. Watching Carlisle and Esme together, and hearing horror stories from Edward about Carlisle's first marriage, only reinforced my realistic approach to life. My gut fairly screamed that there was no such thing as love. And yet…

Was it so wrong to wish for the unattainable with Carlisle? Was it so wrong to pretend I was with someone who really loved me when we were together? Jesus, listen to this...

My chest was actually hurting, a fucking sharp ache centered right in my heart. It couldn't possibly be worth it. It was much better to enjoy those brief moments with him for what they really were: ephemeral happiness. A string of those could sustain someone through life, the rest of which would always be a swirl of disappointment and tolerable monotony. Resetting the shield of indifference that had served me so well over the years, I took a long swig of my beer. I was definitely more than a little buzzed, and this was a very good thing. I needed to forget, even if it was just for one night.

"Unbelievable, Alice. I'm shocked. You're definitely losing your touch," Jake said, pulling me back to the conversation.

Alice tossed him a defiant look. "So what? I'm happy, and that's all that matters."

"Hear, hear!" I chimed in, deciding Alice needed a bit of a break. "So, what's happening with _your_ love life, Kimosabe?"

A smile as wide as the Grand Canyon spread across Jake's face. "I," he emphasized, holding up his beer, "am fucking and being fucked so entirely, I'm surprised I can even walk straight these days."

We all clinked our drinks together in congratulations. "Who's the lucky stud?" I asked.

"Mike Newton."

"WHAT?" Alice and I both screamed.

"Mike Newton is gay?" I swear my jaw was stuck in the fully open position.

Alice quickly set down her wine. "Oh, my God," she said, cringing and flailing her hands like she'd just swallowed something extremely sour. "He had such a crush on you in high school, Bella. What the fuck?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Relax, will ya? He's a switch hitter."

I arched an eyebrow. "When did he figure this out?"

"After a night with me," Jake answered, his tone dripping with supreme confidence.

Alice snorted, but I was far more willing to give Jake the benefit of the doubt. I'd had conversations with more than a few of his previous lovers, and every single one of them had had nothing but praise for his enthusiasm… and technique. After Jake had started working out in earnest when we were teenagers, I remember wishing I could get me a piece of that unbelievable bod, too. Life can be so unfair…

"So, what's he like in bed?" Alice asked.

Jake's eyes had that misty, faraway look to them. "A total screamer. Daring, too. He sucked me off in the stock room of his parents' store."

"How is that daring?"

"While his dad was taking inventory," Jake finished, the grin on his face letting us know just how fond he was of that particular memory.

I chuckled, trying hard _not_ to entertain that visual… which was rather difficult seeing as I'd worked at Newton's Outfitters during those summers I hadn't been in Arizona with Renée. "I just can't see him as a screamer, though," I muttered.

"No kidding," Alice agreed.

Jake grinned at us. "Ah, you had to be there. He was so fucking pliable under my hands…" he trailed off, grabbing one of the larger body pillows, which he proceeded to mount right there in front of us. Then, much to our growing horror, he slowly flexed his hips into the soft cushion, mimicking exactly how he fucked this blast from our past.

"It took a few thrusts for me to find his sweet spot," Jake continued, noticeably changing the angle of his hips, "but once I did, his soft, breathy gasps escalated to screams of pure rapture."

Alice covered her eyes. "I think I'm gonna puke."

I, on the other hand, was entirely amused. "You should write gay romance novels, Jake. This is awesome."

He perked up. "You think?"

"Absolutely."

"Is it making you hot?"

I took a deep breath. "Not really, but it's still awesome. You've got talent."

He laughed, tossing the pillow aside. "Mike Newton is putty in my hands, and believe me, he gives as good as he gets."

"How long have you two been..." Alice finished by making a few lewd gestures when words escaped her. She looked very uncomfortable, which only added to my amusement.

"Almost five months," Jake answered.

"Exclusively?"

"Nah, he's porking Lauren Mallory on the side."

"WHAT?"

I was beyond shocked. "There is no fucking way Lauren Mallory would be fucking him if she knew he was fucking you!"

"See," Jake calmly pointed out, "when you guys were around, Forks was a nice happy comedy series. Now it's a fucking soap opera. That's what happens when you leave."

"Serves her right," Alice piped in. "She's an über bitch."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you just give your eye teeth to be a fly on the wall when she finds out?" I asked, laughing.

"Oh, you'll probably hear that explosion all the way out here, believe me," Jake said. "I'm just hoping I'll still have a living fuck buddy when it's all over."

My mirth couldn't be contained as I envisioned said explosion. Part of it was the alcohol, I knew, but I just couldn't stop giggling. Small-town politics was probably the only thing I missed about Forks. Everybody knew everybody else, and therefore secrets didn't remain secret for very long. Of course, in my particular case, had I still resided there, I'd be screwed six ways 'til Sunday… and then some.

"Yeah, well Bella had a fuck buddy, too," Alice said, grinning deviously.

Shit. Here we go.

Jake stared stupidly at her. "Well, yeah. She's married. I still can't figure that one out."

"No, no — I mean she had a _fuck buddy_," Alice explained, drawing out the nasty term.

Blinking, Jake finally realized what she meant, and turned a wholly satisfied smile in my direction. "You're fucking someone?" he asked incredulously. "Besides Eduardo?"

I let go an exasperated breath, but chose to ignore the umpteenth mangling of my unfortunate husband's name. Before I could even respond, Alice continued the conversation.

"She was, anyway. Sounded pretty intense."

Jake gaped at me, every facet of his expression telling me how fucking proud he was. "What's wrong with what's-his-name?" he asked. "Can't he get it up? Or keep it up? I mean, he didn't strike me as being very… well, manly, I guess."

"Oh, Jesus," Alice blurted. "Don't fucking tell me he's your type?"

"Not a chance," Jake shook his head. "I was far more interested in that blond God of a step-father he's got."

Bile quickly rose to the back of my throat at those words, every cell in my body freezing as I realized how close I was to being caught. These were the two most trustworthy friends a person could have, but the idea of them knowing what was going on just made me want to crawl into a dark corner where I could hide for a few days. Or a few years.

I swallowed the nasty taste in my mouth, washing it back down with another swig of beer. Jake kept at me, asking over and over who the hell I'd been screwing. I wanted to answer, but I honestly wasn't sure what would come out. I was too stunned and too fucking scared. Jake was and always would be clueless on how to read people, but Alice would know right away if I was lying.

My mind was awhirl, desperation mixing with ice cold fear. I kept stalling, letting Jake rattle on, but as it turned out, my silence, and probably a million other little details about my body language and expression, clued in the most perceptive person in the room. My gaze met hers for just a fraction of a second, and for that brief moment I was laid bare before my best friend. I felt like crying.

Alice's eyes widened, jaw dropping open. "No fucking way," she whispered.

Jake stopped, looking back and forth between us. He couldn't possibly have missed the heat on my face, but his brows were still furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"Isabella Marie Swan," Alice continued, disbelief written all over her tone. "Did you fuck your father-in-law?"

How could I possibly avoid such a direct question? From her, of all people? Fortunately, my jaw seemed quite stuck, so I just didn't say anything… which, of course, nailed my guilt to the wall where everyone could see it anyway.

"Oh, my fucking God!" Jake's voice rose, his whole body inching forward towards me. "Does he have a big cock?"

A chuckle, which sounded suspiciously like a sob, escaped my lips. But I still couldn't talk.

"Bella, this is really fucking important — is he hung?" Jake prodded.

Good ol' one-track-mind Jake. One could always count on him to infuse levity into a dire situation. I forced a cheeky grin, nodding. At least I could be honest there.

"Shit!" he bellowed, scrambling off the floor. I watched with detached amusement as he leapt over the coffee table and ran for the hallway. He was already undoing the front of his jeans before he'd even disappeared around the corner. That left me completely alone with the one person I couldn't ignore.

I looked at Alice, and hoped to high heaven she could read the mix of emotions in my eyes. Jake was easy to deal with. He'd razz me about it for a while, and then we'd be on to the next topic. Alice, on the other hand, was like a Jack Russell terrier; when she latched on, she didn't let go. And I really, really needed her to do just that this time around.

She seemed to sense the fragile atmosphere correctly, shifting on all fours until she was seated right beside me. "You're still seeing him, aren't you?"

Apparently I was pretty fucking easy to read. "Yeah," I whispered.

"How long has this been going on?"

I snorted. "Since my wedding reception."

"My God, Bella," Alice began. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?"

Tears stung my eyes. I couldn't talk around the lump in my throat, so I just nodded, dropping my gaze. I felt lots and lots of fear right then, all mixed together with a healthy dose of shame. I expected Alice to rip me another asshole, to tell me what a fucking idiot I was. She'd done it in the past, setting me straight with a few choice words after a round of stupidity on my part. Instead, she gently tugged the beer from my hand, set it on the coffee table, and pulled me into a hug.

It was exactly what I'd needed. I clung to her like a lifeline, a steady rock in the rapids I'd been trying desperately to navigate on my own.

"You love him, don't you?" she whispered against my ear.

I couldn't reply; I was too terrified of the truth. Admitting it made it real. What a fucking coward I am.

Alice didn't repeat the question. She no doubt already knew the answer. "Whatever happens, Chica, I'll still love you," she told me.

Closing my eyes, I finally let the tears fall. God, I was never this emotional. Ever. Carlisle Cullen really had a hold on my heart, the fucking bastard. And this wouldn't have a happy ending, either. There was just no fucking way. I was headed straight for a brick wall at high speed, and I couldn't think of a single way to avoid it. It didn't matter which way I turned from here on out — I was going to get hurt. Badly.

Indecent sounds suddenly floated down the hallway behind us as Jake got himself off in the bathroom. We both started laughing, my pain and insecurity disintegrating. "I can't believe he's doing this again," I said, finally finding my voice. "We need to stop discussing hot guys when we get together."

Alice pulled back and grinned at me. "This is nothing. He did this five times during your wedding reception – all because he was drooling over the guy who turned out to be your lover."

"He'd shit his pants if he knew we'd hooked up for the first time that same night."

"Yes, he would," Alice agreed, "which is why we won't say anything, right?"

I nodded, wiping my eyes. "I don't need any more fuel added to this particular fire."

Leaning over, Alice grabbed a box of tissues off one of the end tables and handed it to me. "Just be careful, okay?" she asked.

"I'll try," I promised her.

Jake walked out then, looking extremely proud of himself. "Ah, that felt good."

Alice glared at him. "My bathroom better be spotless."

Ignoring her, Jake frowned as he watched me blow my nose. "What's wrong?"

"Too much alcohol too quickly," Alice covered.

That seemed to do the trick. His expression smoothed out. "Ah. Well, I'm ready for another beer. What about you, Bella?"

I laughed. It was amazing how obtuse Jake could be, not that I was complaining. "Bring it on," I told him.

The rest of the evening was mostly a blur of outrageous hilarity and booze. Nobody vomited that I could remember. We did have quite the argument over which of us would get to sleep with Melvin — the big pillow shaped like a rainbow trout. I won.

Somewhere around two or three in the morning, I was awakened by the feel of my phone vibrating under my right cheek. How it got there, I had no idea. Bleary-eyed, I picked it up and tried to read the text. It was from Carlisle.

**Missu**? What the hell is that? Wait… I blinked again, trying to focus.

**Miss U**

Miss who? Miss universe?

_Miss You_

When comprehension finally dawned, I felt tears welling in my eyes all over again. Damn it. Swallowing, I tapped in a response, hoping Carlisle would figure out I was pretty well sloshed and incapable of any kind of complexity.

**Ms U 2**

His response — a smiley face — came back to me seconds later.

I stared blankly at the image until the screen went dark, forcing myself not to think. I needed sleep — a nice, dark, dreamless, inebriated-out-of-my-fucking-mind kind of sleep where the demons that haunted my waking hours couldn't reach me. Fortunately, my current state was extremely conducive to passing out, which I did only a few seconds later, entirely unaware of Alice's worried gray eyes keeping watch over me…

(~ * ~ * ~)


End file.
